


Between the lines

by Tummalaulu



Series: No name girl [2]
Category: Backstreet Boys, Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Songwriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 79,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22282984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tummalaulu/pseuds/Tummalaulu
Summary: A project that was supposed to be easy and fun turns into a rollercoaster of emotions for its protagonists. Sometimes salvation can come from the most unexpected persons and it's up to us if we accept it or not.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Dorothea Hurley, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: No name girl [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603927
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know! Bizzare pairing of fandoms.  
> This story will not make much sense if you don't read the first part, but for those of you who don't want to read a BSB fanfic, here is some crucial info.  
> Mel is an actress (in my alternate universe she played Black Widow). She's married with two children and they live mostly in Spain. Officially, she doesn't know her real parents. She was raised in Bucharest, Romania, at 13 she moved to the States to live with what she thought was her real family (here is where the Backstreet Boys are coming into the scene), at 18 she moved back to Europe because it all had been a lie. Her leaving is abruptly and inexplicable for her friends (except for Brian, her brother that was not her brother), but as the years pass by they manage to come to terms and maintain a nice relationship. In 2018, while on a cruise with the boys and BSB fans, Tia (Brian's wife) reminisces about her leaving and accuses her of leaving them as Sambora did to Bon Jovi. Those words stick with her and she finds she's in trouble when, a year later, she learns Jon is her co-star in a very wicked movie she really wants to do.  
> I've never planed to write such a story, but while I was in the middle of writing what should have been my only fanfic, I went to a Bon Jovi concert. And my heart broke, let's just put it this way. Anyways, hope you'll give this one a chance!

On the first millisecond after the door closed behind her, Mel had the urge to turn around and foot it from there. If she could have evaporated it would have been even better. No matter how hard she had tried to convince Martin it made no sense, he hadn’t listened. To prove him and the rest of the team that she couldn’t sing she should have opened her mouth and troll some stupid song, any song, but her brain had blocked before her vocal cords had decided it’s too much for them. The 30 seconds video recording that seemed to be on everybody’s phones, in which she sang like Arwen in the wind, didn’t help much either.  
_I'm so gonna encrypt every fucking video that I have, NSA would come to me for advice!_  
After a preliminary debate with Martin, she had thought she could do it. On her own terms. The right amount of alcohol, her husband’s studio back home in Spain, and no one around. She would have sent them the recording to do what they wanted with it, at the shooting it was all about lip-syncing anyway and after that, she would have refused to take part in any show that would make her sing. So simple! Except nothing was simple. In fact, things were far, far away from simple.  
The first problem was they didn’t have any songs. She and Martin, the director and her friend, had agreed from the beginning that the movie needed original songs. There were a lot of good songs that would have told the story perfectly, but they were from such different bands it would have been a total mess. What the movie needed was a unitary sound. Who would be better at providing it than the man who was cast to play the lead male character? And who would have been better at explaining to him what that movie was about than she was?  
- _You really understand what I want! Well, you always understood me, which is why we’ve made good movies out of ideas that seemed to go nowhere. I know you’re not sure of my choice for Nathan’s part, but trust me. You know I wouldn’t destroy a movie just to have a big name in it._  
\- _You have a big name on it!_ she had gritted her teeth. _I have a fucking Oscar on the table in my guest’s bathroom._  
Martin had started laughing and had pat her back.  
\- _I’m sure you gonna pull it somehow! We filmed stuff tougher than that together._  
Mel had sighed.  
- _You have no idea what you are saying!_  
But in the end, she had half accepted. She wanted that movie, she needed it. So she had made a deal with Martin. They would both direct it, she would make sure the songs were what they wanted and he would have that damn voice in a song. She hadn’t said her voice, she had referred at her singing in the third person because she had to find someone who would sing for her and for the right amount of money to keep her mouth shut. That was a good settlement, the best she could obtain, but in the last week, courage seemed to desert her. So did the sleep. Being away from her family didn’t help either.  
\- Ready to work?  
His voice made her wake up from reverie. They had met at some fundraising gala several months before they found out they'd be colleagues. She was with her husband, Yiannis, and he was with his wife and they had had a pleasant chat for about an hour, exchanging impressions about neutral topics. OK, maybe the fact he had confessed he saw her everyday hanging on the walls of his youngest son’s room was not really neutral.  
- _We are even! You used to decorate my room in my teens. You were my stepsister’s choice though!_  
That did not count as neutral either. And that was her second problem. She took a deep breath and started to talk:  
\- What do you say about addressing the elephant in the room? She sounded a little bit pretentious.  
He looked amused around him.  
\- I didn’t know I had that in the studio, he said, although it wasn’t really true. But it was impossible to be an elephant both knew, so he was curious about what she meant.  
\- Jon! She scolded him almost unconvincingly, mainly because she had come in the last few weeks to the conclusion that she kinda was his fan and it was no easy thing to admonish your favorite artist. Above all, Tia’s comparison lingered in her mind and made her feel like she was walking on thin ice. Or maybe Tia’s words were not to blame, maybe it was that studio’s fault for that awkward sensation of someone lurking in the shadows. _Fuck Sambora!_ For now, she had to deal with his younger brother. _Hunkier too!_  
\- Okay! He raised his arms in peace. And what elephant is it?  
She took a few steps in the room and took a seat on an armchair set at some distance from him.  
\- I will not sing! She said fixing him with her eyes.  
He started laughing.  
\- OK, we have been through this before, but I’ll ask you again. Why not?  
\- Because I can’t. I don’t know how to do that.  
\- Really? Because this states otherwise. He hit play on his laptop and turned the screen towards her.  
\- Oh, God! Mel exclaimed and ducked her head so she didn’t see her face on the monitor. Phones were bad, laptops with bigger screens were some kind of apocalypse. Surround system that filled the air with her voice was the mere definition of hell. Look, she continued after a pause, that thing, for which someone will pay big time…that thing was possible because I probably was at the distance of one shot of any beverage from an alcoholic coma.  
\- You don’t seem, but this is not a problem. I have enough alcohol.  
\- Jon, I’m not kidding! I do not like to back off when things get tough, but I know my limits and I don’t like to make a fool out of myself. I won’t be able to record anything. And I know this because I’ve tried it before. Damn, I have a studio like this in Greece and one in Spain. And a husband who also thought at some point that I’m just pampering around, ‘cause he heard me singing right? Our daughter is named Cristina after a song. One that I sang on the night we met when I probably had some blood left in alcohol. I don’t remember anything from that scene, he has a recording similar to what you have. Do you think he didn’t want that song properly recorded? Do you think I didn’t want it? It’s a waste of time…Mel seemed defeated.  
Instead of saying something, Jon went to a small table filled with different bottles, took two glasses and poured something in them.  
\- Here you go! He told her when he was near her and held out one glass.  
Mel looked at him questioningly.   
\- I’m not trying to get you in that state, he smiled.  
He might have tried to sound reassuring, but Mel could sense an infinitesimal pinch of mocking. She took the glass from his hand and took a small sip out of complacency. She made a face as soon as the alcohol made contact with her taste buds, strong drinks were not her cup of tea.  
\- How the hell do you get that wasted if you react like this to a sip of whiskey?  
\- I have 58 kilos…127lbs, I guess, she corrected herself, beer and wine are enough.  
\- I apologize. I should have asked you what you drink.  
\- It’s fine. I’ll make some more faces and I’ll be done with it.  
He smiled and returned to his place, taking a seat.  
\- Let’s put away this singing thing for now. There’s no song yet anyway and, believe me or not, Martin didn’t put me in charge to convince you. He thinks you’ll do it.  
\- I know. I made him believe that.  
\- Why would you do that? He asked her fairly amused.  
Mel did not know if to love or to hate that smirk of his. If she were to think about it, the smirk was just fine, hot as hell fine, what it was hiding was the problem. She could not tell yet if he was sincere or not. Mixed reviews. That was what she had about him. Damn mixed reviews. Mister nice guy versus cutthroat bitch CEO. Or a first-class primadonna, it always depended on who you asked. She hadn’t embarked on an investigation about him. She knew his music, in fact in some corner of her mind a younger self was screaming her lungs out on “You give loooove a bad name” on that right moment, she loved the band, the concert in Bucharest from 2011 was still one of the best she has ever attended. She knew disparate bits of trivia. She wasn’t sure why she knew them but she did. And it was true, he was part of the fourth band she wished to get its shit together, whatever shit that was, ‘cause she never read or saw an interview on that matter. The “up on stage” Jon she loved. The “we met once” Jon was OK, quite nice. Maybe the “on set” Jon would have been a lovely one. But the “hey, I’m making a soundtrack and I’m stuck with some voiceless chick” Jon…well, he didn’t seem peachy.  
\- Because I want this project to go in a certain direction and he will offer me that chance if I give him my…voice.  
\- Why do you want this movie? What’s up with it?  
\- It’s twisted and I like twisted stuff.  
\- I think I need a better explanation than this.  
\- Because it’s about mistakes of the past that come to haunt our present. What am I saying? It’s about mistakes that always have haunted us. And about a lie or an unspoken truth that can make the difference between life and death.  
Jon seemed to carefully measure her words. Little did she know that he was also having a hard time deliberating between “Oh, you gonna love to work with her, she’s tons of fun” and miss “Ice Queen” in front of him.  
\- You won’t be able to do it, you know? She said after a pause.  
\- What?  
\- You won’t be able to play this role if you put too much of you in it. Don’t think of what you would have done if you were in his shoes. Don’t go there!  
\- You are talking like I’m the only one who has to play an ingrate character.  
\- No, I’m talking like someone who already made a plan. She let out a little laugh.  
_At least is ice, not stone,_ Jon thought.  
\- Have you ever thought about it? That that could have happened to you?  
\- What? Mel smiled a little bit cocky.  
\- You know…  
\- Oh, you are in such big trouble, you can’t even say it! Mel giggled this time.  
\- It’s not easy to digest.  
\- No, it’s not.  
\- Given your situation…  
\- My situation? Ah, Mel quickly understood what he meant. Someone knows something about me.  
_Was she genuinely surprised that he knew something about her life or she was just mocking him?_  
\- You were on all channels. I could have lived under a rock and I would have known that piece of information about you.  
\- I made only one declaration. That I don’t declare anything.  
\- Yeah, but that didn’t stop the media from turning anything upside down.  
\- That’s what they always do, right? I didn’t really think about it, to be honest. Not like that anyway. I knew for a long time that my family was not my family. That this family also was not my family, to be more specific. There was a time, before the media storm, when I was wondering if unknown people around me could be my parents or siblings. Or something. But it was nothing like “I’m gonna bang this one and I’ll discover he’s my father”.  
She said that in such a funny way, that he could not restrain himself from laughing.   
\- But I used to do something else. It’s quite creepy if you think about it. I used to get a strand of hair or a used glass or anything with some piece of DNA on it from people that rang something in me.  
\- That is creepy!  
\- Yeah…It was before all these DNA sites rose to fame. Now you can find even the persons you’re not looking for. Anyway, after some years I let it go, and when I did that I found them.  
\- You what? Jon almost chocked on his whiskey that he had poured into his glass for not letting Mel drink alone. He was not planning to drink it at all, but that was one uncomfortable topic. How did you find them? If you can…and…uh…want to tell me, of course.  
\- By chance, she shrugged. It’s a long story. But it’s a secret also, I mean a secret for the public.  
\- I get it, I’m the public, he laughed.  
- _Not anymore. It seems this fangirl of mine wants to take the lead._ Anyway, I’m in no danger to find myself in Ava’s position. _Ava. What the heck was Martin thinking when he named that character?_ Thin ice cracked under her feet when she pronounced that name. What about you?  
\- Oh, I didn’t have such a rock’n’roll life.  
\- You do realize in your youth you didn’t have to think about that. Now it’s a problem!  
He looked baffled at her. She was teasing him for sure, although nothing in her attitude was giving her away. She took another sip of whiskey and a grimace ruined her poker face.  
\- Come on, you really don’t have to struggle with that glass. What wine do you like? Is rose good?  
Mel nodded and he walked again to the bottles filled table, taking his time to compose a response.  
\- Even if I had a child that I’m not aware of, and I really don’t think it’s the case, because who keeps a child hidden like that, I don’t think I would find myself in Nathan’s place nowadays, he said and handed over the glass.  
_Why, do you take paternity tests on the go?_ She reached for the glass and bit her tongue, that sharp and dirty-minded tongue that sometimes was so hard to keep in a leash.  
\- Good, it’s good that you don’t resemble Nathan. Anyway, what Martin and I want to get from Nathan and Ava are two figures that people can relate to. After they overcome the fact that it's an incest that is not incest, blah, blah. I want people to see in their tale everything they had buried deep inside. A love story, an abandon, a parting, a secret, an untold I’m sorry, an ungiven phone call…anything.  
Another crack in the thin ice. She felt him tense as he walked to his chair. A tiny little pause before taking the last step before turning and put himself in the chair.   
\- Did you know who Martin had in mind for Nathan’s role when you accepted? Jon asked her.  
\- No. I accepted in a blink of an eye. I didn’t even read the whole script. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. Wait, Martin has had you in mind from the beginning?  
\- That’s what he told me.  
\- Joder!…Mel let escape her lips.  
_Was that Spanish?! Did she just curse in Spanish?_  
\- He built this movie around you, I can’t believe it.  
\- He didn’t! Jon protested.  
\- No, I mean, around the idea of you playing Nathan. This is how Martin works. Years ago he refused to make a movie because he couldn’t picture anyone else but me in the lead role. I made him wait two years until I said yes. That was my first movie and now here I am.  
\- You don’t seem very happy with his choice for Nathan, Jon apprehended.  
\- _Oh, shoot!_ Where did you get that?  
\- Just a hunch, he smirked.  
\- Your hunch is wrong. But, for the record, I think you'll have a hard time losing yourself. It has to be damn hard to be someone else when all your life you've built that persona. And it’s even harder when your character is a singer, is in a band and is having the break down of his life. If you want my advice…Make this movie your alternate universe, one in which you did fuck up really bad, let’s be honest. You won’t be judged for Nathan’s mistakes and that can be cathartic.  
\- Oh, I’ll be judged alright! Jon laughed. Don’t you worry about that! You’ll be judged too. I’ll drag the whole cast after me.  
Mel let out a short laugh and took a mouthful of wine.  
_OK, so Miss Ice Queen with a nice laugh._  
\- So, do you have any ideas for the soundtrack?  
\- Not really, Jon shook his head. I should have by now, but I don’t.  
\- As we talked before, we really need a history for Nathan’s band. Do you have anything that sounds like the 80s and is unheard?  
\- So can I borrow my voice to Nathan? His tone was somewhere between amused and ironic.  
\- I’m not to say about can, but you may, she defied him with a shadow of a smile.  
\- _You ask for it_ , a little voice inside his head whispered.   
\- _Goddamn elephants! It’s a fucking herd!_ I can only tell you how I see this thing, Mel said and broke the awkward silence that fell between them and threatened to send both of them on a tightrope. The movie opens with a concert, so we need that. That song that gets the party started.  
\- Will you give me an example? He smiled.  
\- No. Because you know I’m talking about your songs and you very well know which ones I’m referring to.  
\- I want to know your opinion. Maybe they are not the same.  
\- Yeah sure, cause last time you sang “You give love a bad name” people stood still, right?  
\- Was it hard to name it?  
Mel wanted so bad to tell him to wipe that smile off his face, but she restrained herself.  
\- It doesn’t have to have a meaning, but it has to sound like an evergreen rockish anthem.  
\- And who will decide that? More than 30 years in the industry and I have no idea when a song will really be the hit.  
\- I think Martin relies on you on that one though, Mel giggled. You are on your own, but it doesn’t have to be a hit, just to sound like one. Then things get more interesting. There is one song that tears him between his wife and the ghost of a former love. I would not name a song for this one, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.  
He looked at her with interest.   
\- I see, so you didn’t fell for my carefully cleaned up image of a family man married to his high school sweetheart? He asked her trying to look serious, although it was damn funny to get that kind of information from her.  
\- I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, she defended. I don’t have to tell you that you have a talent for telling two stories in one song. You don’t need my appreciation and, let’s be serious, my approval for your life is out of the question.  
\- Hmmm, was all that Jon said, and Mel had the sensation that in that specific moment he had reached a conclusion about her, but she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.  
\- An important song is the one at the end, when he realizes all the implications, Mel chose to resume the thread of the discussion. And, of course, we need that damn song I will not sing. Otherwise, you have a carte blanche from us, have fun!  
\- Gee, thanks! Jon snorted.  
\- So, my job here is done, right? Mel said like she was about to leave. Do you need more information?  
\- As much as I appreciate your sense of humor, you don’t go anywhere right now. First of all, Dot messaged me. They are back and if Romeo doesn’t meet you today I won’t have peace with him anymore. He is literally capable of disowning me. Second, maybe you didn’t receive the memo, but we don’t have much time for these songs.  
\- Uhm…good luck with your work?  
\- Martin really wants your stories. You want your stories. My lyrics but your stories. And some of your voice.  
\- I really thought I knew this man, Mel sighed. I thought he knew me.  
\- Well, let’s hope you’re the one who doesn’t know herself! Jon said and stood up. Come on, let’s go to the house.  
\- _That was harsh. Why do I feel like a scolded school girl?_  
Mel rose to stand too.  
\- I won’t be your…Any word that could fill in that sentence was bad. _Maybe he has been harsh, but you darling, you just cracked the hell out of that ice._  
Jon, who was already at the door, stopped and glanced over his shoulder towards her.  
\- You can call him by his name, you know...  
\- _What? Who? Huh?_ Those were legit replies. Even silence had a higher probability of being her response than what came next.  
\- No, no I can’t! Mel said without looking at him.  
\- _Maybe she knows the elephant after all._ Come! He said in a more cheerful tone.  
She got out of the studio, averting her eyes from him, but even so, she could feel that blue searching gaze on her. For two people who barely knew each other, they conducted wordless dialogues a little bit too easy. _Tia, you can go to hell with your comparison!_

In no way she had managed to convince Dot to let her go to the hotel, what was a guest house for if not for guests? _Jon, what the hell? Where are your manners?_ He had smiled a little confused, like a child caught making some foolish thing.  
- _I knew she would not want to stay. I recognize a stubborn at first sight._  
- _Hmm…why is that?_ Dot had almost laughed at him.  
They had had dinner, Romeo had been thrilled to meet her finally, overall it had been a nice evening. But now, now she was just walking around in the guest house of a man who intimidated her more than she had expected. Of a man around whom she had to hold her mouth, but as it turned out, it was damn hard to not shovel in his face all his dusty skeletons. _Because you left us like fucking Sambora left Bon Jovi! What non-sense! Pull yourself together already! Your only problem is that you have to sing, the rest is just details! That’s why you behave like this, all childish and moody._ Maybe the stress of an inevitable singing round had caught up with her, but that damn feeling she was not alone in the guest house didn’t have anything to do with that. She unlocked her phone and wrote a message to Oana, her friend.  
_I’m stuck in fucking Jon Bon Jovi’s guest house. Hope you’re happy!_  
She didn’t expect to get an answer from her too soon, it was already tomorrow where she was, but before the screen had the chance to turn black, a crying in laughter emoji was making fun at her from the phone.   
_The question is, are you?_  
_Your little video got me here!!!_  
_You’re welcome!_  
_You’re dead!_  
Another stupid emoji and then nothing. She paced a little more across the room before she threw herself onto the bed wondering while her body was falling if no one would scream _“Hey, watch out! Why did you hit me, can’t you see me?_ ”. _Really, what a non-sense! He is not here, you are!_ She remained like that, eyes on the ceiling and thoughts wandering in limbo until she finally fell asleep. _  
_


	2. Chapter 2

An untraceable engine noise woke her up. It took her a while to figure out where she was. It was that song playing in the back of her mind, the younger self nailing the “S _hot through the heart and you’re to blame_ ” that made her realize where she was. _Oh, shut the fuck up! Now you’re singing! I’ll see you in a few days what you gonna do! Shot through the heart my ass, through the head would be better!_ And just like that, the song was gone and her mind had a brief moment of silence. Now, what was with that motorcycle like rattle? A few knocks on the door made her understand that she had to get out of the bed. She ran her hands through her hair as much as she could before wide opening the door. Whoever was on the other side could only settle for her sleep ruffled figure.  
\- Morning! A smiling Jon greeted her before she could completely recover from the sleep.  
She rubbed at her eyes like that might have given some sense to the image in front of her. Dressed in a leather jacket and a pair of jeans, too tight jeans obviously, sunglasses on, Jon held in his hands two motor helmets. Behind him, a motorcycle on the jack was now lightly purring.  
\- Is that you, Tom Cruise? She just couldn’t help it. Too damn early and too damn tempting to throw that comparison.  
\- Hmm, it could have been worse. Come on, get dressed! We have to get a song from the 80’s today!  
\- We are not making Top Gun 2…or 3, you know that, right? She mumbled.  
Jon tilted his head back and laughed.  
\- Get in! It will take me a while to get ready! She said and turned inside, leaving the door open. As reality was kicking in and the day of light slowly invaded her mind, her controlled self was taking charge of her actions.   
\- You don’t need to make yourself beautiful! he shouted but entered the house anyway. He didn’t go further than the door.  
\- Why? Because I am already or because it would take me too long? Her controlled self didn’t manage to do something about her speech. She heard him laughing but didn’t understand what he was saying because she was too busy putting on her only clothes. The comfy jeans she had yesterday and a t-shirt she always carried with her in case of an emergency. Her clothes were at the hotel, she hadn’t expected to not return there. His daughter had been kind enough to let her some pajamas last night when it was clear her luggage would spend the night in some fancy room without her. She sprinkled some water on her face and quickly brushed her teeth, then pulled her hair in a braided tail.  
\- You were surprisingly fast!  
\- It’s not as if I had too many options.  
\- Ah, your luggage! We’ll solve it today!  
_Today? I have a flight tonight!_  
She decided it had no sense to argue with him about her staying so she put on her dark green leather jacket and exited the house after him. He gave her one of the helmets and went to the motorcycle waiting for her.  
\- Woah there, cowboy! What are we doing here? She said as she approached him. _Did I just call him "cowboy"?! What the hell is wrong with me and my mouth this morning?!_  
\- Hop on! Let’s go for a ride!  
Mel started laughing.  
\- Not on these conditions!  
\- For the record, I am a responsible driver…rider.  
\- You can be Valentino Rossi from my part!  
\- Have you always used doubles when you were speeding on motorcycles in your movies?  
\- Only when I was a passenger.  
It was Jon’s turn to laugh.  
\- I’m serious. I did my stunts all by myself, but I didn’t resist two seconds on the back seat. So you have two options: either you pull another motorcycle out of the garage, or you move to the back.  
\- You kidding me?!  
\- You are not the first man I take on a bike, don’t be afraid! I know what I’m doing! She said and gave him a wink.  
That mixture of boldness and nonchalance sent a chill through his body. He quickly scolded himself for that.  
\- Well, I have only this one for now! He said and, to his own surprise, moved to the passenger seat.   
\- I have to say I am surprised you have helmets.  
\- It had more to do with privacy than with safety. But right now I’m glad I took them!  
Mel giggled and settled up then lifted the jack. She did not seem to feel the weight of the bike and that calmed Jon a little bit. A very, very, very little bit.  
\- Where are we going? She asked him over her shoulder.  
\- Wherever you want!   
Now he was just trying to discourage her, but Mel murmured a “ _Destination anywhere it is then_ ” under the helmet and put the motorcycle in motion.  
\- Do you think you can hold on to me? She asked him after only a few meters. The bike feels better this way.  
\- Is this your pick-up line?  
\- See how painfully lame sounds? She laughed.  
\- I’ll hold on to these bars, thank you.  
\- As you wish, she said and started again.  
Jon wondered how the hell he could hold on to her. He was not afraid to touch her, much could be said about him, but shy did not characterize him, only that he did not understand physically how he could. He never rode with a woman at the handlebars. They were too fragile, whether they were independent and warriorlike, and he was too much of a control freak anyway. At the first curve however, after leaving the area of houses, he gave up on any philosophical thought and moved his hands on her waist. At the second one, he tightened his grip. She, on the other hand, seemed totally relaxed and he had to admit that she really knew what she was doing. She was going fast and smooth.  
Mel had no idea where to go, but that had never stopped her. Before living in Spain, she had traveled Spain on her bike. She hadn’t done it in a long time. Asphalt and motocross tracks, mostly with her kids, were the only bike action she could get. There was no time for some good old touring. If she hadn’t felt Jon clutching around her from time to time, she would have forgotten that she had a passenger. This was not the 80’s for her. First of all, at the end of those years she was only 5. Second, traveling across America had no emotional impact on her. Except Route 66. Parts of it, whatever was left of it. _That would be nice to do._ For now, that little hill was doing its job. It was better than a straight line and the city. It would have been nice to have under her a slightly more sporty bike, to lean her more in the curves, but that was not bad either. It was for sure more suitable for Jon. She had made men who were far more relaxed to be led by a woman scream out of their inner core. Most of them even enjoyed the experience. She laughed at the thought of an out of his mind Jon on her back seat. A screaming out of his mind Jon, because out of his mind was nearly a good description of his state. Every time she accelerated before a turn was over, she could feel his mind yelling at her “ _That is not the fucking break! Wrong handle!_ ”  
After a time, she patted him on his left thigh to gain his attention and drew a circle with her hand in the air. He gestured a “go ahead and take the first right” or at least she hoped that was what he had shown her. If he had gotten right her question in the first place. _Ah, how lost can we get anyway?_ In 30 minutes they were back in the yard.  
Mel got off the bike and removed her helmet. Her hair freed itself from the tail halfway through their ride and now was a big mass of tangled once curly blonde flocks.  
\- That was a good ride! She had the smile of a kid on Christmas morning when he had received exactly what he had asked Santa.  
\- Do you have a built-in Google Maps? He asked her as he got off the bike. He had to tell her something and the fact his whole body was shaking was not really a good topic.   
\- You can say so. I have a good sense of orientation, to people’s surprise. Sometimes despair, she giggled.  
They remained silent until they entered the house where Dot and his two younger boys were waiting for them to have breakfast  
\- How did it go with the 80s haunt? Dot asked them. Hmm, good I see! She said looking at Mel.  
She had been through that before. AJ had thrown her a “ _What’s up, Bad Medicine?_ ” back then. She quickly wrapped her hair in a bun, which made Dot smile.  
\- Did you let him drive? Romeo shyly asked her. Mel looked at him and smiled shaking her head.  
\- Of course not! she confirmed as if she had confessed a secret to him.  
Dot and Jacob began to laugh almost hysterically.  
\- Really? Did he accept to be your passenger? Jacob asked her slightly incredulous.  
Jon didn’t say a thing and Mel was beginning to feel confused.  
\- OK, what’s the catch?  
\- He’s a freak control, didn’t you know?  
\- Jacob! Dot scolded him.  
\- You can’t contradict me! The boy defended.  
\- I thought you would change your mind before we left the yard, to be honest.  
\- I have a small motocross track behind my house and a circuit bike with my name on it in a hangar, plus a cruiser in my garage. Don’t laugh at your dad for being a control freak. I did have a panic attack in my only experience as a passenger and I was on a film set. He did just fine.  
\- I still wished I could see this, Jacob said.  
\- Maybe you'll have the opportunity.  
\- Not a fucking chance! Jon cut her off. And you owe me a song for this!  
\- Things don’t work like this! She smiled and started eating from the plate Dot had placed in front of her. 


	3. Chapter 3

\- Do you really have your flight tonight? Jon asked her when they were in his studio.  
\- Yeap! And I live under the impression that I’ve been set up! I’m referring to Martin, Mel continued when she saw Jon’s puzzled look. We could’ve talked over the phone, or Skype, or any other voice app that surrounds us, you know?  
\- Yes, but then I would ‘ve been deprived of one hell of a ride…  
\- True that! Mel smiled. Look, I will delay my return if it’s necessary. I don’t want you to think I don’t take this movie seriously. As I said yesterday, I practically jumped into this project, but I was thinking that I would have the same relationship with music that I have in my real life.  
\- Meaning?  
\- I love her and she hates me.  
\- How can music hate someone? Jon laughed.  
\- OK, maybe hate is a strong word. The thing is I only take what music has to offer, I am not able to give back anything. I have spent a good part of my life among musicians and all I can say about someone singing or playing an instrument is if I like it or not. Good, bad, in tune or not, out of the rhythm, I have no idea and I couldn’t care less. I truly believe that music is the main character in this movie. Ava’s song is what starts and ends everything...  
\- And that’s why Martin sent you here, Jon smiled.  
\- Yeah. And I’ll walk you through whatever I have to to make you understand what we want to tell with this movie, but that’s pretty much all I can do.  
\- OK, but…  
\- Forget that video, please!  
\- I can do that, I don’t care who is singing, but Martin won’t do it. You lost this battle, so to speak. So I’m offering you some help to win the war.   
\- Some help?   
\- I’ll think of something. You said you couldn’t record your daughter’s song in the studio. But you sang it somehow, on multiple occasions, right?  
\- Yeah. Well, not that multiple. Two, three…I can’t remember exactly.   
\- Let’s start with that. I’ll not throw you beyond the glass wall, but I need more than 30 seconds to find Ava. Because I’ve seen some of your movies. You are e great actress, but you won’t act this song. It needs to fit you. I have this feeling.  
\- It would have been nice to have a feeling you know someone that can sing my part.  
\- I know a lot of people, but let that be plan…C.  
\- We should start with the stories. And maybe Ava will reveal to us…somehow.  
\- So we have some kind of a deal?  
\- I just sold my soul to the devil, Mel shook her head, flocks of blond hair covering her eyes.  
\- Am I the devil? Jon tried to sound outraged.  
\- It’s a saying. Make the devil your brother until you cross the bridge. The end justifies the means. Romanians are more picturesque, so to say.  
\- They sure are. Now, come on, kid, we have work to do!  
Mel raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Last year, on that cruise, Tia called her the same. She had claimed that her choice of clothes made her call her "kid" and she was wearing pretty much the same now. Her long time jeans, recently rediscovered and the same lousy t-shirt she had had on that cruise. She didn’t have anything more comfy with her so she decided to keep her morning outfit. And to let her hair untamed as was never to be seen in public. _You are overthinking one word! It’s not a nickname, it was just a one time call._  
\- So, what’s the deal with you and motorcycles?  
\- There are no bikes in the movie, Jon!   
\- Come on, humor me! He said and handed her a glass of wine.  
\- It’s before noon! Mel looked at him questioningly.  
\- Yeah, and I need it because of you! Happy?   
\- I’m sorry! She said although she was not sorry at all. She took the glass and sighed. I like them, I always did. I like driving in general, mostly because I hate when someone else is on the wheel. Control freak or trust issues, your pick! Mel smiled. But…  
She didn’t know if it was a wise thing to tell him more. Her love for bikes had nothing to do with the death wish her friends joked she had. Back in the days, it surely was not about love, it was about necessity. It had kept her sane.   
\- But?  
\- Some years ago a bike saved my life. A bike and a trip around Spain. I don’t know how much you know about my life, it’s a fucking soap opera anyway, even I have hard times keeping up with it…  
\- Not that much, but based on what you told me yesterday, it seems I’m in a select group of people who know you found your parents.  
\- Yeah, I guess you are, she smiled and her eyes got darker for a second. Anyway, I had some rough, rough times and …my mind would not shut the fuck up and what was telling me was not nice and driving a bike was the only thing that could bring some quiet. _Stop it! He doesn’t have to know all your drama!_  
Jon didn’t expect that kind of confession from her. He thought it was just a “ _being cool_ ” thing, not a “I was about to kill myself and that trip saved my life” one. He did not expect to have something in common with her. _Did she not know anything about him?_ He took a sip of wine and so did she.  
\- It was after I made my first movie…  
\- I thought it went great.  
\- Oh, the movie was all right. I was praised for my acting, but still everybody saw me as a brainless pretty face. I can’t tell you how many offers of lousy cheesy almost soft porn movies I had to refuse.   
\- Why?  
\- Why I refused them? Mel laughed.  
\- No, why such offers?  
\- You don’t know my first movie, do you?  
\- I don’t know if I know it. Maybe the boys know it…  
\- Oh, God! I hope not! Although….No, no, no! Mel violently shook her head.  
\- What kind of movie is it? Jon laughed.  
\- It’s a nice movie, but it involves a bunch of same sex bed interaction.   
Jon’s eyes grew larger and he could not help a smirk to take over his face.  
\- Don’t look at me like that! It really is a nice movie, nothing obscene, no useless nudity. That’s when I came with the slogan “No titties, no singing”. It was my mantra, especially the "no titties" part.   
\- You should have said the "no singing" part more often, Jon laughed.  
\- So it seems. You know, Mel said after a pause, I was living under the impression that this “on a steel horse I ride” thing was early 90s, not the 80s…Where did my math go wrong?  
Her half innocent, half ironical question made him laugh again and he almost choked on his wine.  
\- That specific line is from 86.  
\- Ehm, I guess they are all 90s to me. Late 90s…  
\- The “a bike saved my life” part is early 90s, he said ignoring the fact she just indirectly made him feel old.  
\- I thought that gave you a song, not…  
\- _So she knows something_ …It did both! Jon interrupted her and put an end to that involuntary trip down to memory lane.  
He rather felt than saw her eyes turning dark again as she weighted every word and analyzed every move of his body. The fact they had something in common hit her as much as it had hit him.  
\- Anyway, motorcycling is the only thing from that era that I can do now and keep some decency.  
\- I don’t know if it counts, but even then you were not decent. Hot? Maybe! Decent? Uh-uh!   
\- Maybe? He raised an eyebrow interrogatively, the corners of his lips fighting to prevent a smile.  
\- You had to be really determined to see beyond those outfits, she shrugged. Besides, you don’t need to hear from me how hot you were…or…Mel decided it was better to leave it to the past.  
\- It won’t hurt, he half joked.  
\- Ah, vanity! Definitely my favorite sin! Mel grinned.  
\- OK, back to present! How would you resume this movie for someone who knows nothing about it?  
\- Pffh...Resuming is not hard, not making it sound cheap and cheesy is …complex.   
\- You mean impossible, he teased.  
\- Well, you accepted it and I accepted it so we have to find a solution. I hate cheesy movies! Anyway...Summary…One song, two friends, one secret and some destroyed lives.  
\- That is a good summary. Now tell me the plot!  
\- You know the plot.  
\- Yeah, but if you can’t make it sound decent no one can.   
\- You can’t back off now, Mel laughed.  
\- I know that…  
\- Don’t hate your character. He’s not a bad guy…  
\- But he’s an idiot! Or acts like one!  
\- Maybe, but you still have to at least understand him, if you don’t love him. Because if you don’t, nobody will. OK, plot…There is this guy, 50 something, lead singer of a band, could have been an engineer, but hey, we need some glamour, right? He is at a point in his life where he thinks he has it all. Fame, success, money, family, friends. All the right things in all the right places. And he is absolutely sure that he figured it out how to maintain all these. He’s not a saint, but he’s not looking for trouble either. But trouble decides to find him in the person of a young lady who seeks revenge. This girl grew up seeing her mother struggling with drugs, alcohol and all the other goodies. This girl witnessed her mother’s death. She never knew who her father was, all she knew was what her mother had told her: “ _that man is guilty for you not having a father_ ”. That man being Nathan. She grew up hating him. She wants to put him through hell because she really thinks he is the only culpable for her misery. She wants to destroy everything he has. She wants him divorced, his kids to turn their back on him, his image totally discredited, his band to not be a band anymore. She infiltrates in his life, gains his trust and at some point, his love. His friend and band mate tries to warn him, but his warning comes too late. Ava owns him at that point. Nathan thinks Dean is just jealous, you know…vanity, Mel smiled, but Dean is the first one who learns that Ava knows something from their past. In her good days, Ava’s mother lulled her to sleep with a song that Nathan used to sing to her. He hears Ava sing and remembers the song that Nathan never finished and never wanted recorded and he knows things are bad. Ava’s plan would have gone brilliant if some old friend of her mother hadn’t made her believe Nathan is her father and if she hadn’t fallen for him.  
\- Ava falls in love with Nathan? Where is this specified?  
\- It’s between the lines. It’s my character, I know her very well. She thought she would discover a monster, but what she discovers is a normal guy, warts and all. So it’s not only that she had slept with what seems to be her father, but he had made her reconsider her plan. Ok, she wanted him divorced and for her, but not so destroyed anymore. She feels like he had denied her again the chance to be happy. Plus, let’s not forget that she had slept with her father! Mel accentuated the words. So she kills herself and I’m not yet sure how she will do it, but is has to be something with a meaning. Before taking her own life and right before a concert she fights with Nathan, she doesn’t say him that she thinks she is his daughter, but puts all the clues in his head. He gets up there on the stage, he sings whatever has to, but all he can think about is her words. And Dean’s words. And while Dean is playing some heartbreaking guitar solo, Nathan realizes what was all about. And he realizes that Ava will do a stupid thing, because he’s not her father at all. Dean is. And he has no clue. For Ava, her mother was a victim. For them she was a girl who played them both. They actually had loved her, but Nathan was the one who had made her leave when he had found out she was not very decided between them. The conclusion is, Ava’s plan is a successful one. He loses everything. He loses her, his wife will not forgive him, his friends will not forgive him. Dean will fucking hate him. His best friend kept his only daughter away from him, slept with her and pushed her to suicide. Not intentionally, but that doesn’t change the facts. And all that just because years before he hadn’t believe Ava’s mother when she had told him she’s pregnant with Dean. He’s ego was too hurt at that point to give a fuck and because she had never come back he thought that had been just a lie. So, this is pretty much the story. Do you still think he’s an idiot?  
\- Aren’t we all at some point? He wrinkled his nose not sure what to feel anymore about his character.  
\- Yeah, but only some of us are unlucky too. That is a dangerous combo.  
\- I guess it is.  
\- Sorry, I have to ask you this. Aren’t you a little afraid that you’ll drag the whole band after you…before dragging the whole cast?  
\- Just to be clear, there is absolutely nothing in this script that approaches reality even remotely! He was a little too annoyed by her assumption, although she could not be blamed for how rumors functioned.   
\- My question doesn’t insinuate the opposite, Mel calmed him down. But you have to agree that the premise of this movie…  
\- That was a rumor, Mel! Jon’s tone lightened a bit.  
\- Ah…what? What rumor? What part?  
\- Never mind! he quickly said. If she had no clue, he would not tell her a damn thing.   
\- My premise was “rock band who aged gracefully”…no rumor here! Mel almost mocked him. So, what was yours?  
\- Doesn’t matter. Still not true!  
Mel didn’t want to insist, but just when she was about to leave aside that topic that didn’t help them at all, it hit her.  
\- Oh my God! She exclaimed. Someone played you? _When the hell did that happen? He has been married since…forever…_  
She was both surprised and amused.  
\- Don’t worry, I’ll not ask you who, or why, or when, or whatever, she said when she saw him frowning at her. I’m here to get some songs, not trivia!  
\- It was just a gossip…you’re not exempted from them, right?  
\- I’ve lost track of them. But if you want facts, I’m not a lesbian and my kids are made with my husband, she casually said.  
\- Oh, wow…How the hell did you end up with these rumors?   
\- First movie, remember? Mel giggled. As for the kids, I’m responsible for it. My husband too, actually. I have this good friend and we kinda used each other to keep our true relationships secret. For about three years we did it. No one had a clue. Hell, I got married and no one knew! It was fun. I miss those days, Mel said dreamily.  
\- So you secretly got married? Jon was now intrigued.   
\- No press, no family, no friends…yeah, I guess secretly works, she smiled. I don’t give a damn about these things, my husband had been through a proper wedding before, I would have loved to just fly to Vegas and get the job done, but he was not that keen. Plus, paperwork is a pain in the ass any way.  
\- How romantic of you…  
\- Oh shit! Mel hissed. Something in his smile and his tone made her realize what she had just said. You did that! _Maybe some research would have not been a bad idea._  
\- Finally some trivia that didn’t fly past you? he smiled and went for the bottle. More wine?  
Mel reached out her now empty glass. It became evident there was no chance for her to go home that day.  
\- Tell me something. Are your friends and family still bitching about you not telling them? ‘Cause mine won’t shut up.  
\- They’ve never said a thing.  
Mel raised her eyebrows questioningly.   
_The hell they didn’t! Or you don’t hear them, or they are bitching on silent mode and I don’t know which one is the worst._  
\- Maybe they were muted by the sigh that was heard all around the world, she drowned her smirk in a good mouth of wine. _I should have stopped drinking like yesterday…_  
He was once again at the brink of chocking on his wine.  
\- I think we should go back to our movie.  
\- I think that too, Mel agreed.  
\- Do you have a favorite song?  
\- What happened to the movie discussion? Mel frowned.  
\- Just trying to figure out what kind of song would stick to Ava.  
\- Oh…A simple one!  
\- Stop thinking you’ll have to sing it! Jon laughed.  
\- I don’t have a favorite song.  
\- You said you love music…  
\- I do. But music is so, so, so diverse. I can’t stop at a favorite genre and you ask me about one song. Do you have one?  
\- No, you're right. That was a trick question. I don’t get either how someone can stop at only one song. It depends on mood, time…even the weather outside.  
\- Exactly! Someone once described my tastes in music as ones of a schizophrenic or of a person with a multiple personalities disorder.  
\- A harsh description…  
\- We were in my car, some mariachi song was playing and one minute later a heavy metal guy was screaming his lungs out in some Nordic language. Beethoven 5th symphony followed. And that is just a small glimpse. My heart leaps when it hears some traditional Romanian music, all those violins give me goosebumps even when I’m only thinking of them. Sometimes I indulge in questionable Balkan music. I’ve cried listening to Greek songs when I didn’t know how to say “hello” in that language. My soul got lost and found itself again in the desert Arabic music invokes. It truly fascinates me how music breaks the language barrier and how it reshapes the way a language sounds. Spanish is melodic, Latin languages are melodic on their own, but you don’t listen to Ahmed talking to Mohamed and think “damn, it sounds like angels humming”, right?  
\- Let’s go with eclectic, shall we? Jon laughed.   
\- Call it as you want, it is what it is. But for Ava’s song we need just an acoustic guitar. And a voice, but we’ll not go there again. In my opinion that is the kind of song that imprints in someone’s memory, DNA I could say, in the easiest and quickest way. Deepest too.   
\- Just a man and his guitar, you say?  
\- It’s a symbiosis there that can’t be matched by anything.  
\- Do you play?   
Mel started to laugh.  
\- I’m completely anti-talent.   
\- You hold a guitar in your hands in that video.  
\- Just to impress the audience. Guess it worked….too well.   
She was determined to not even touch a guitar in his presence, although she could play a song or two if she really wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

Mel was lying on the sofa with unplugged headphones covering her ears, while Jon was confronting a blank sheet of paper strategically, yet annoyingly placed on the desk in front of him. He was absently spinning a pen between his fingers with no power to put all the ideas he had in his mind in a coherent order. It was just another regular day at the studio. Almost two weeks had passed from Mel’s arrival and no plane was scheduled anymore to take her back to Spain, but that didn’t change the fact that after all that time they had exactly zero songs. Some chord progressions, some random lyrics, a clear direction but no song! And no voice for Ava. She hadn’t fallen into any of his attempts of a trap to make her at least hum something. Anything! After a few days, he had relegated her singing strike to an inferior level of importance and about that time she had developed that interesting habit of lying on the couch, a glass of wine resting on the floor near her and those big and very good noise-canceling headphones over her fluffy hair. She was banging her feet, arms or head to an unknown rhythm, like those headphones were actually connected to a device and she could hear something, except silence, in them. Depending on the day, he was intrigued, inspired or amused by her routine. Today though was inclined to go with irritated. They had discussed every aspect of the movie, he was sure he knew more about it now than Martin did, but he just couldn’t fully understand what she wanted from Ava’s song. Their characters held no more secrets and yet he had no idea what that song should be about. He was not that worried for the rest of the soundtrack, after all he had some good starting points, but what the hell was he supposed to do about that one? In two weeks they would go separate ways and he needed something. A tiny idea, a trigger, a note, a word...  
He stood up from his chair and walked to the side of the couch where Mel was resting her head. He took off her headphones and held her puzzled gaze.  
\- I need to know something because I’m trying my best here to understand what is happening with you and it seems I’m failing.  
\- Huh?  
\- I did a little research and I asked people who know you and heard you sing at least once to describe me what the hell happened when you decided to stop acting like a silly kid and sing something.  
\- You didn’t!…  
\- And everybody, Jon ignored her, told me more or less the same thing. Alcohol was involved and that’s not a problem. I still have plenty. The songs had a meaning to you and they were mostly not in English. I can’t help you with that, but you don’t want to sing anything anyway. And what is intriguing me the most, you did it only with close friends or family around you. I get it, I’m none. But by all means, I thought this environment is pretty intimate and ...safe. So, Mel, tell me! Am I the problem? Am I intimidating you that much?  
He didn’t really think that, but he needed something to start with. He gave her something she could contradict with the truth.  
_Lie to him_ , was Mel’s first thought. _Make him chew his goddamn words_ was the second.   
\- You are on the fucking Rock and Roll Hall of Fame! she snapped back as she raised herself. Of course I feel intimidated by you!   
\- You have a fucking Oscar and I don’t’ know how many other awards! You scare the shit out of me, but you don’t see me whining every fucking day!  
He was not known for his patience.   
\- That’s because we are in your damn studio, not on set! Do you know what I’m gonna do on set? Act! But now we are here, for almost two weeks I’m here, and I didn’t hear you sing once!  
She regretted her words from the moment they formed on her tongue, but she was just not capable of stopping them. Those were cruel and unnecessary words.  
 _You made a big fucking hole in the ice and jumped in it. And dragged him after you! Good job!_  
Jon let the headphones drop on the couch and Mel wanted so hard to just hug him and tell him that she was sorry.  
\- Do you think I’ll kill you if you don’t hit the right note? Or worse, that I will run to Martin and make you look like a fool? Or, I don’t know, release a stupid video on YouTube?  
His voice was calm but bitter. So bitter that Mel could actually taste his words.  
\- I offered to be your partner in crime, but you have to give me something, kid!  
_After all that he could still call her kid?! Why the hell was he not mad? Why was he not yelling at her? That Jon she could handle, this one, however, was something else._ She had made him cross some fucking red line. He was beyond mad, he was hurt.   
\- Jon, I…  
He went to the door, and before closing it behind him he turned to her.  
\- I’m tired, Mel!  
He was indeed, but she surely was not the only reason.  
\- Fuck, fuck, fuck! Mel screamed when the door closed and she remained alone in the room. A series of holy Romanian words arranged in a blasphemous way followed before she returned to English. What the fuck have I done? 

When he came back from his usual morning run, Jon stopped in front of his guest house. Funny thing how quickly you can fall into a routine, forgetting that months ago or days ago you didn’t have the slightest idea of what’s to come. After their little ride, Mel took the bike out on every morning their schedule permitted. And on those mornings, Jon always had a brief moment when he wondered if she’d come back or she would just disappear, crossing the country before crossing the ocean. He couldn’t quite tell why he had that feeling. As she described herself, she was not the kind of person who would leave a combat without fight. So he imagined she was not the kind that would leave people without goodbyes, even if it was for annoying old people like him that were not able to write a lousy song. But that feeling kept bugging him and now, seeing the bike there, where and when it was not supposed to, he felt like he was about to relive a nightmare. And that made about absolutely no sense. Sure, they got along pretty well, he was still stupefied at how easy they could understand each other sometimes, but they were nothing more than colleagues. _Weren’t they?_ He didn’t want to check the house, if she was gone so be it, it was surely not his job to deal with her stubbornness or her preset ideas. He didn’t even know why the hell he had been so patient with her up till that point. He went to take a shower, before going to the studio. It would have been too abruptly to stop the routine completely, he fucking hated change when someone else imposed it, so at least he could have that part where he would wait for her in the studio. Even if it was all in vain.

  
Someone was in there and someone was strumming a guitar, but he couldn’t see anybody. He slowly approached the couch. Nothing could have prepared him for what his eyes were able to see, but his mind was unable to comprehend. Lying on her back on the floor, next to the couch, with those damn headphones on her head again, partially covering her ears, eyes closed, Mel was playing his guitar. _Did she spend the whole night there?_ The two empty bottles next to her and a broken glass suggested a big yes. As he looked at her lying there, worn jeans, comfy t-shirt and a huge pile of blonde semi curly long hair scattered all over, Jon realized his studio didn’t look so rock’n’roll in ages. He restrained himself from giggling and he took a seat on the armchair behind him.   
He had no idea what she was playing, it sounded very Spanish to him, but absolutely unknown. _How the hell was she doing that?_ How was she able to pick the right strings and touch the right frets from that position with her eyes closed? It was surely not impossible for guitar players, but she was not one. And it sounded good, sloppy sometimes, but good. As the song went by, Mel slowly started to hum along and then out of nothing she stopped strumming the guitar and started to sing. To actually sing with that voice of 30 seconds he was so eager to hear live for weeks now. It was in Spanish and he had no clue what the song was about, but he could feel something between despair and abandon in her voice that made him gulp for air. He leaned back and closed his eyes, continuing to listen to that bizarre mix of singing, humming, and guitar that was so out of logic, and yet so perfect. It didn’t matter in what language they were, he could not tell them apart anyway, he could sense the change not from the actual words, but from something that came from her deepest self. She surely did not have a voice that could make stadiums go wild, but she had a voice with that rare ability to break a soul into pieces with just one word and sew it back with the next one. This alternation between poison and cure, hurt and healed could keep someone listening to her for hours. Or listen to her for 30 seconds and be hooked for life. Like Martin was. Like he was, not that she would ever find out. That balsam she was pouring in the words was addictive and it was what he needed.   
He had no idea how long it had been when something strange happened to her singing. No more balsam. No more cure to the poison. No more healing. Just hurt. Just pain. He opened his eyes and rose to his feet, took two steps and looked down at her again. She still had her eyes closed and a sad smile painted on her lips. He saw her chocking on the words and almost formed tears and, in the absence of the medicine, his heart cried what his eyes couldn’t.  
\- When love dies, does life die too? He heard her whisper in English. She opened her eyes and met his. He was sure she was going to freak out, so the fact she was still lying there after a few seconds confused him.  
She completely removed the headphones with her right hand.  
\- I’m sorry about the glass, she said with a husky voice, so different from her singing one.  
\- I could have bet I won’t find you here, he responded after a moment.  
She slowly got up and put the guitar on the couch.  
\- I won’t lie. I thought about it. For about half the night and two bottles of wine I thought about it.  
\- And why didn’t you leave?  
\- Because leaving is just a temporary solution. And we don’t have the time on our side.  
_Temporary. Did anyone know how long temporary should last?_  
\- Go take a shower, Mel! Sleep a little. Take the bike for a ride, she misses you, Jon tried to joke a little.  
\- I’m too hangover for a ride. And why is the bike a she?  
\- I don’t know. It just seemed logical to be a she for you too, he said as he passed by her. He took the guitar and put it in its place. Do you want to eat something?  
\- Some painkillers would be great, thanks.  
\- Are you a method actor? Do you actually need to experience the rock and roll way of living? He asked with a subtle smile on his lips, almost mocking her.  
\- That’s nothing rock and roll in being drunk on a floor with a guitar in your hands. It’s called adolescence or college years.  
\- And I don’t call you "kid" for nothing.  
_I have no idea why you call me kid!_  
Before she could say anything, Jon grabbed her left hand.  
\- What have you done to your nails, Mel?  
She looked at her blood-red burning fingers.  
\- Chewed them, she responded casually. He wanted so badly to laugh, but he didn’t.  
\- You really hurt yourself.  
She withdrew her hand from his grasp.  
\- I’m OK but you should check that one, Mel pointed at the guitar.   
\- Blood on my guitar, he whispered. That is some good title for a song.  
\- That sums up the movie perfectly.  
They looked at each other, both smiling like they just discovered something important.  
\- I’ll be back soon, she said and turned around leaving him alone in the room.  
He went back to his guitar and brushed the strings with his fingers. A very subtle red line formed on his fingertips and in his mind he could see her thin fingers trembling under the pain, struggling to execute what her mind was telling them to do. She surely gave him what he has been asking for. Maybe more than that.


	5. Chapter 5

Routine again. Mel lying on the couch swinging her legs on an unknown rhythm. No headphones this time.  
\- Hey, Mel!  
\- Hmm? She tried to look at him over her head.  
\- Do you like dancing?  
\- Ah..what? she turned on her belly to see him. She surely looked like a kid sometimes.  
\- Do you like to dance in general?  
\- Yeah. I mean I really do enjoy dancing. On my own mostly.  
\- Why on your own? Jon laughed.  
\- Because, she stopped for a moment, because it’s hard to follow others. Although I have to say, if you stumble upon the right lead the following comes naturally.  
\- You can’t really be that control freak, to not let a man dance you, Jon laughed. What did you do at the prom? ‘Cause at your wedding there’s no point to ask.  
\- I’ve never been to the prom.  
\- How come? Proms are a big deal!  
\- Oh yeah? Mel devilish smiled. Did you go?  
\- I…we…we were rebels. Anything else was more interesting than the prom.  
\- Well, I didn’t fight the system. I skipped the system in the first place. I was homeschooled. Or road schooled to be more precise.  
\- Oh... _Doing the same things at some point in your lives doesn’t mean anything. They are called coincidences_ . _Remember that!_  
\- But you know, on the right dance is never about who leads and who follows, it’s about questions and answers. Proposals and responses. Intentions…Just like in life…  
\- Hmmm….  
\- Oh, and I easily lose the rhythm of a song and just make my own…  
\- What do you mean?  
\- I mean if the song goes like this, she said and start clapping, one, two, three, four, five, six at some point I’ll be one, two and, she paused, four, five. I can’t really explain. I think it’s something with the repetition, Mel laughed. Or simplicity. Or with the fact that my mind has the attention span of a 2-year-old when it comes to rhythm. And sometimes I just don’t hear it. But mostly, when my brain senses repetition, it wants to change it, I don’t know. So if the rhythm is not linear so to say, my brain delays the fallout. A little bit. I love syncopated clapping.  
\- What?  
Mel sat up in the couch and started clapping ending with an "ole".  
\- Flamenco, she smiled. What’s with that look? Oh, my God you hate me! I can read it on your lips and eyes and everything! I can see it in your palms, you want to strangle me!  
Jon inhaled deeply. Of course it must have been Spanish music involved. It only seemed logical to be.  
\- I’m surely not loving you right now!  
\- I live in Spain, what did you expect? My neighbor is a good unknown to the world flamenco performer.  
\- Well, that explains your little Spanish romance on the guitar.  
\- Oh, fuck! You heard that?  
Jon nodded.  
\- Oh, fuck! You heard a lot then!  
\- Now you panic?!  
\- Better later than never? She innocently asked.  
They both started to laugh.  
\- You really have a twisted mind, you know that!  
\- I know.  
\- You are a true walking contradiction.  
\- I know that too, Mel almost apologized. _And I know I’m not the only one here._  
\- OK, I need you to do something for me.  
\- Why do I have the sensation that I have to be scared?  
\- It doesn’t involve singing, relax! But, Jon paused, there is a song in you and I want it out.  
\- Are you high?  
Jon burst into laughing.  
\- No, seriously! Maybe it’s not Ava’s song or a song for this movie, but I need to try this. Dance it! Dance what you hear in your mind, because I’m sure you hear something. Or feel. Or...I don’t know.  
Mel opened her mouth to protest, but she didn’t know what to say. She used to dance like that, with no music, in the times she was living in America, right after the accident. Before AJ had caught her and before they had started their little nocturnal secret meetings that had kept both of them afloat for some time. He was not the first one and he was not the only one who linked her to inner songs. If she had inspired someone over the years she couldn’t be sure. She could just guess. But it would have been all about lyrics anyway, not rhythms.  
\- Do you have a problem with dancing while someone is watching too?  
\- More or less. Not really if it’s a good song, to be honest.  
\- Perfect. So, can you do it?  
\- Now?!  
\- Oh, 9.30 is OK for you?  
\- Jon, come on! I’ll dance, but how can we be sure that you’ll understand what I dance? It’s like machine learning, you need a little bit of training in guessing the song by moves, you know?  
\- I have no idea what you’re talking about!  
\- Machine learning...ah, never mind. What I’m saying is that before I start dancing like a weirdo, we should see if you can actually figure out what I’m doing.  
\- Choose a song!  
\- Any song?  
\- Not any song. Shazam doesn’t know what you sing, I doubt I can do any better.  
\- Shazam?  
\- Yeah. I tried to find that 30 seconds of yours.  
\- Even I don’t know what song it is, Mel laughed. I’ve never heard the original. A long time ago, someone used to sang it to me.  
\- In what language is it?  
\- Finnish. She felt her skin right above her right ankle suddenly burn. _Laulu, Tummalaulu, dark song._ It’s Finnish.  
_That was some unexpected language._  
\- I will choose one of your songs.  
\- My songs? Jon was not so sure it was a good idea.  
\- You know them by heart, don’t you? Let’s start with something easy.  
\- OK, it makes sense.  
\- Anyway, I’m sure it will be a big fail.  
\- I let you drive that damn bike with me on the back seat. Please return the favor and have a little faith in me, OK?  
Mel just laughed and grabbed her phone plugging the headphones.  
\- Close the blinds and dim the lights, Johnny boy!  
\- Excuse me? Jon was shocked by her requests. And by the appellative.  
\- I need some atmosphere.  
\- OK...he mumbled but complied. Did you make your choice?  
\- Yeap! Mel said and covered her ears.  
He went to his usual armchair and took a seat.  
_What would she listen to?_ He had to narrow down his options from the start. How many songs did he have? Over 350? _Yeah, and how many does she know? Ten at best? Anyway, if she starts to jump and wave her hair around it’s the 80s, if she’s just circling around might be a ballad or..._ no more thoughts as Mel started to move, slowly taking one step after another further from him with feline moves. _There is absolutely nothing that starts like this_ , was capable to admit when Mel faced him, drawing little infinities with her hips. She was gone. In less than five seconds she had reached a place where she was alone. Just her and the music. His music...He took a deep breath. _Yeap, no ballad here!_ He thought as he watched Mel’s body undulating. Did he really have a song that could make someone move like that? _Concentrate! It’s just a dance and you’ve seen thousands!_ The way she rolled her shoulders, starting a move that sometimes seemed to end in her fingertips and sometimes just dispersed in the room, the way she was alternating fluid movements with unexpected stops or turnings, the way she rapidly shook her head making her hair cover her entire face just to uncover it with some God damn sexy move afterward, the way she smiled...he never saw that smile on her. At that moment he couldn’t be sure if he’d ever seen that kind of smile on anyone in his life, ‘cause his mind was getting blurry. _Smile, fingertips.._ .a loud bye, bye echoed in his whole body as Mel clearly ditched some poor guy with a short shake of a hand and a merciless, sly smile. _Of course it was that song!_ He could actually now hear the whole band on her body, sometimes was the piano who was taking the lead, sometimes the percussion or the guitar, but mostly he was sure his voice was what made her move in that atypical and unholy way. Although it was something purely intangible, realizing his voice was in her head and in every cell of hers, made him feel suddenly very, very uncomfortable. He squirmed in his chair, but he could not take his eyes off her. And she was not even trying to attract him or lure him. No, she was just dancing as he had asked. He surely was glad their paths tangled so late in his life. She was trouble in the best and the worst possible way!  
\- So? Mel asked as soon as she took off the headphones. Why are you grinning like an old bad wolf at me?  
\- Maybe because I’m one? He laughed.  
\- Wishful thinking, Mel teased him. Enough talking nonsense. Let me hear your guesses!  
\- First of all, let me say, that was an excellent guitar solo. Short, but impressive! Jon said and applaud her to sustain his idea.  
Mel looked at him in awe, but she came quickly into her senses.  
\- As good as the musical one?  
\- Equally. And equally improbable to repeat, I guess, he continued more to himself.  
\- None or both. It’s up to you! Mel pressed her lips tight like she was regretting what she had just said. Anyway, there are a lot of good guitar solos in your songs. Which...  
\- It’s "This left feels right" version of "You give love a bad name", Jon interrupted her. I’m sure it’s a live performance just because you seem the type of person who prefers lives over records, but I don’t know which one is it.  
\- How the fuck did you do it? Mel was truly shocked and he was more than pleased to see her like that. What gave me away? I tried so hard to not lip-sync, or point to my heart...  
\- It was the bye bye gesture, Jon laughed. And that dangerous smile of yours that sold you.  
\- Joder!  
She was really affected by his guess if she had just cursed in Spanish.  
\- So who’s your favorite guitarist, Mel? Santana? He asked her with traces of laughter in his voice.  
\- Well, you got the first letter right, Mel said showing a playful smile more on her eyes than on her lips.  
\- And what? The second is wrong? He snorted.  
\- Do you want to buy a vowel, Jon? She laughed. Actually, my favorite is a Mexican girl named Gabriela Quintero. Flamenco and rock on a simple acoustic guitar. And some killer legs, Mel grinned.  
\- I'd say I’m surprised, but at this moment I don’t know what else about you can baffle me.  
_\- If we continue like this you might get your answer_ . So what now?  
\- Now the fun begins! You dance and I’ll try my best to put your moves on notes. God help me!  
\- I don’t believe in God, Mel said with a neutral tone.  
It was not daring or bravery in her statement. She was not looking for proof of existence or kindness. It was like she knew for sure there was nothing more out there and that did not give her any type of feeling. It was what it was.  
\- Eh, you’re young…Jon gave her a sympathetic smile.  
If he were to think about it, it was a little strange that she lacked that kind of faith. A near-death experience usually turned people to God, not away from Him.  
\- You didn’t believe either. What happened?  
\- Got older? He said, half answering her, half questioning himself for that turn.  
\- And you had to choose between heroin and Jesus and went for the latter or what? Mel intended to say a smart funny remark, but she realized what it came out of her mouth was something more like a mistake than anything else. She had just talked about rope in a hangman’s house.  
\- _How the hell did we even come upon this topic?_ Jon had to ask himself. Many of us have to make this choice at some point in their lives. You had to do it…maybe more than once…  
\- What are you asking me? Mel pinned him with her eyes.  
He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure if he was asking anything at all.  
\- I was lucky, she said after a moment of silence. There was no choice to be made.  
She had had all the right data to be a good girl that had gone astray and yet she hadn’t followed that path. That path that had brought him the scare of his life when a midnight call had woken him not from a nightmare, but into one. But he had some right data too, didn’t he?  
\- I’m not some immaculate angel people could look up to, you know?  
\- No shit! He snorted, not because he was sure she was not one, but because he knew how awkward it was to be put on some altar when you were anything but a choirboy.  
\- At first, Mel seemed to not be bothered by his little outburst, I wasn’t curious and I didn’t have the need either. When the need appeared and it was big enough to suppress the lack of curiosity, something else came into the scene…  
Jon raised his eyebrows, silently encouraging her to continue.  
\- Remember what I’ve told you when you asked me why I’m into motorcycles?  
\- Yeah…  
\- Well…what my mind was telling me…No, my mind was not telling me anything! I mean it was, but…  
_STOP!_ All her inner voices screamed at her. She had never spoken with anyone about what she had been through at the time she had roamed Spain on her bike. What she had experienced was too irrational to be ever put on words, that was what she thought. She had been too afraid and then she had been too ashamed to talk about it. There was a locked chest with a big “do not open” sign that was shielding those memories. Talking about what was inside was out of the question, but mention to someone that the chest existed was acceptable, wasn’t it? _NO! Don’t go there!_  
\- My mind was slipping reality…she said and shivered at the sound of those words.  
Her mouth was invaded by a metallic taste, one she hadn’t felt in years. The taste of primal fear. She parted her lips to contain herself from swallowing and spread that feeling throughout her entire body.  
\- I have no idea how a bad trip is…  
\- Oh, I know how it is…Jon mostly mumbled. I experimented one for a whole fucking summer when I was really young!  
\- That’s what kept you away from trouble?  
\- Mostly…  
\- Hmmm…Mel seemed to think for a few moments.  
It was nearly impossible to have experienced the same thing. It might have had the same outcome, but whatever they have been through…that couldn’t be alike.  
\- Now imagine experiencing something that I can only assume looks like a bad trip for almost the same amount of time without actually taking anything… _Stop talking, Mel! Just stop talking!_ her inner voices were pleading now. My mind was tripping on her own, Mel ignored all the warnings and the cries inside her. I guess riding a bike demanded all my attention and…You know…it doesn’t matter. What it matters is it made me feel too scared to try anything that could possibly make my mind go places. My mind has already seen some of those places. They are not pretty! So there’s nothing to admire in my abstinence, there’s nothing to be learned, there’s nothing to wish for…it’s just a…  
\- A lack of mental stability…strength…Jon changed the word because it sounded too harsh and what he wanted to say was not harsh at all. He was not calling her crazy. If she was crazy, chances were he was too, and he didn’t like that perspective. He, at least, could blame a misfortunate combination of drugs, although on many occasions he had questioned himself if that was what had really happened.  
Mel seemed struck by his words. That was the most accurate description of her non-existing relationship with drugs. Any kind of drugs. She had even stayed away from sleeping pills and oh, how she needed them on some nights.  
\- Yeah…that…she imperceptibly nodded, while a ghost of a smile passed over her lips.  
She eyeballed him and in her stare, he could see the transition from “OMG, that’s right!” to “OMG, he’s right! How the hell is HE right?!” Truth to be told, he wasn’t sure of how to feel either. He had told on some occasions how come he had never truly fulfilled the unholy “sex, drugs and rock’n’roll” trinity. He was not the only one who had avoided it, but he didn’t know anyone else that could thank a weakness for that performance.  
\- Anyway, Mel was done addressing answerless and silent questions, I don’t think gods approve what we are doing. Maybe only the ancient ones. They were more fun. And speaking of Dionysus, you’re out of wine! My liver will not be happy, but if we gonna do this I need some fuel.  
\- Come! He chuckled and moved to his feet. Take your jacket and follow me! And stop being so reluctant! He said as he passed by her. I’m not dragging you to a cellar!  
\- Of course you’re not dragging me. I’m willingly coming, cause you’re Jon Bon Jovi! She mocked him.  
\- Yeah, and you care about that as much as I care about the Kardashians! He snorted.  
She laughed and took her sweater from the couch. It was not completely true. From time to time she did realize in whose presence she was, because her friends did not let her forget. On a few occasions, it had happened that someone close to her to be a fan of someone with whom she worked. They had never asked much, maybe an autograph or a picture, or just a brief description of how that person was in reality. But now, it looked like everybody had gone nuts. Tia, the sweet and otherwise very equilibrated Tia, had asked for anything she could snatch from him.  
_\- A t-shirt, a scarf, anything...I bet he smells good. Like summer rain. Like sex in the summer rain..._  
She had laughed for half an hour and had not been able to look at him for the whole day.  
_\- A few hundred women say the same about your husband. How does it feel? Mel had texted back._  
Her step-uncle had been more subtle.  
_\- Picks for your beloved younger cousins!_  
\- _Since when do they need picks to play the cello? Just say what you want...and no, I’m not stealing any guitar from him!_  
Oana had developed an annoying habit of sending her old photos or print screens from all kinds of videos. Every time she had a new message from her she had to check if she was alone before opening it. One time he had been right next to her when his face had been displayed in all its splendor on her phone’s screen. She had closed it quicker than an adolescent would close porn sites when someone’s at the door. Just like that she had felt. Later, in the guest house, she had come back to Oana’s message.  
_\- Here’s your answer!_  
_\- Answer to what?_  
_\- The cruise dilemma you had last year. You’d go on a ship for him._  
_\- Why would I do that?_  
_\- Because I would! And you are a good friend and you’d come with me._  
_\- Do I have to remind you that I’m still mad at you?_  
_\- You wouldn’t be mad on the ship..._  
_\- I’m in his house and I’m mad...I don’t think some waves and a light breeze would make a change!_  
_\- It would make a change if he were 30 something again..._  
_\- It would send him to jail. We were barely 15 when that song came out!_  
_\- You’re no fun today!_  
_\- Neither is he.._ .she had written without sending _._  
She had taken another look at the picture Oana had sent. A capture from the end of One wild night video of a smiling Jon. A last glance thrown to the camera before turning completely and an „I know something that you don’t know yet” smile. An „I know what you want and I have it” smile. He still had it. The facial expression was there, she had seen it, but all the dirty promises that smile from the video once held were gone. It was empty. He was empty. He did not know how to be himself these days. _You’re imagining things! He’s fine...He only thinks he’s fine_ , a fainted voice inside her whispered. She had erased the last line and had put aside her phone.  
So, yeah, she knew in whose presence she was and sometimes she even cared more than she wanted to.


	6. Chapter 6

\- So, if this is not a cellar, what the hell is it? Mel asked him when he invited her inside another building.  
\- A pub.  
\- You have your own pub?!  
\- You have a motocross track! Each to his own!  
Mel began walking around the room, analyzing it.  
\- Cool stuff! Do you have a strip pole too or it’s not that kind of bar? Mel wiggled her eyebrows at him.  
\- Those years are gone, he smiled.  
\- What years? Of stripping or tipping naked girls?  
\- Both.  
\- You have to strip a little for this movie, Mel laughed.  
\- Don’t remind me, he mumbled. Wine? Or something else? He asked her from behind the bar.  
\- Surprise me! But don’t get me too drunk. The Balkan party animal in me is a wild one, she grinned, and we don’t need that kind of music anyway.   
\- What Balkan? Weren’t you born in Chicago or something?  
\- Look at that! You paid some attention to the news.  
\- It was everywhere, I’ve told you! Jon defended.  
\- I wasn’t born in Chicago. Only the orphanage was there.  
\- So where were you born?  
\- Huh, I’ve just realized my first trip must have been Route 66 taken backward, she said thoughtfully. I was born in Santa Monica, in a family of immigrants. My father is a combination of Greek and Spanish and my mother is of Bosnian descent.  
\- Greek and Spanish you say? Aren’t these your residences?  
\- Call of the blood, I guess, she shrugged. Pretty scary if you think about it.  
While he was fumbling between bottles, Mel started twirling around like a dancer would do to test the floor before a show. He looked at her and then glanced around the room and could not stop a sigh escaping him. He used to love this place. Where did the love go? When did he stop coming there with anticipating joy? And why did it matter? He was selling the house anyway and all those questions would just become ashes.

What had started as a crazy, nonsense idea proved to be a fruitful solution. For more than 12 hours they had stayed there, Mel dancing around sometimes with a glass of wine in her hand, telling him with a playful smile when he was getting all wrong _“higher, lower…ah, make it more dramatic…sadder…uh-uh, Jonny boy, I didn’t move like that!… Pay attention!”_ and him more or less following her, trying at least, _“Stick to one instrument, Mel! My guitar is not a fucking orchestra!… Keep the rhythm for more than 10 seconds, will you? I’m not a magician!”_ . By 10PM they already had a common vocabulary. She knew how a chord sound and he knew how it looked like on her. By midnight he could say to her “ _Stop changing the key!_ ” and she could laugh about it. Maybe it was the wine, maybe the late hour, maybe the place, Jon could not say, but whatever they were doing was fun as hell. And it was working.   
_\- Can I keep you for a couple of albums?_  
 _\- My hips went wild, I’m afraid. I can stay, but you will end up with a fucking salsa album._  
 _\- I have a Cuban drummer, I might use him at his full capacity._  
She laughed and put Bob Dylan’s All along the watchtower to get her back in the “one man, one guitar” mood.  
 _\- You’re adding a beat with your jumps!_  
 _\- It sounds better like this, she smiled not stopping her dancing._  
Jon kept watching her in silence although a big part of him wanted to sing along. Why did she choose that song? He didn’t want to think about it, but “both equally improbable to repeat” turned into a lie as in his head someone else was playing that fucking good guitar. He started picking the strings in a steady rhythm to wash away that memory, but soon discovered that Mel’s moves instinctively followed him too.   
_\- There was a song in you…I put a song in you…_ he whispered as he watched Mel oscillating between the two rhythms. _That’s it! That’s what Ava’s song is all about!_  


It was way after noon when Jon realized Mel was not in the guest house, not on the road with the bike, not in the studio and not near her damn phone. Around 6 o’clock when it was still dark outside, but not pitch black anymore, he had called it quits and had gone to get some sleep. She had wanted to stay a little more, _“you just can’t get out of such a rush in seconds. Let me spin myself out of this adrenaline show with some chill songs. I’ll go to bed by sunrise, I promise”_ she had joked and he had let her stay there. After eliminating all the places she could possibly be, he headed to the pub and now he was looking at Mel who was sleeping on a couch in some weird, almost impossible position. _You saw her dancing, why are you shocked she’s sleeping like a contortionist?_ His gaze moved from her upper body to her long legs. Her jeans were warped to her knees leaving her skin, her smooth, slightly tanned and unexpectedly inked skin exposed. He got closer to have a better look. Stars. Stars on her wedding ring, on her jeans and above her ankle. _That was some funky star._ It looked a little familiar, he had surely seen it before somewhere but he couldn’t figure out where. When she barely shifted, he took the opportunity to pat her shoulder and wake her up.  
\- Hey, energizer bunny! You ran out of batteries? He casually asked her.  
Mel blinked a few times before magically sliding her arms in a normal position.  
\- Really? She growled. Her sleepy voice was rasp and was a perfect addition to her ruffled appearance. She wanted to say something about him being that fucking rabbit, but her brain refused to find the right words. Plus, she kinda was when it came to dance. Ah, whatever...she mumbled.  
\- You wanted to say something about me jumping around on stage, didn’t you? He laughed.  
\- Good, consider it said! She put her arm over her head, covering her eyes and ears and squeezed her knees to her chest.   
\- Hey, Mel! What’s this? He couldn’t help it and touched her still exposed ankle.  
\- That, my friend, is your 30 seconds video...she said under her arms and hair. No need to look as she knew exactly what he had touched because of the burn she had suddenly felt. She could hear the wheels turning and spinning in Jon’s head as he was trying to understand what was the link between the video and that shape. _Slippery when dead meets slippery when wet.._. She hardly restrained herself from laughing at that thought. She had never understood why Ville liked to present his band as the gothic counterpart of Bon Jovi, but it was a thing that she had always found to be almost endearing. Both bands had charismatic frontmen and both bands had been constantly trashed because of that. Too girly, too soft, too pop, too commercial, too eye-candy, this is not metal, this is not rock... In a world that didn’t know Romeo and Juliet, what meaning could Join me in death have? Her foggy mind was still fairly amused by that indirect close encounter of the third kind and she had to bit her lower lip to stop her inner laugh at remaining inner.   
\- I’ve seen it before...On some show or something. Some crazy dudes doing stupid things or...  
Mel rubbed at her eyes, sat up and she meticulously arranged her jeans.   
\- You are both right and wrong, she said locking eyes with Jon.  
It was not that strange that he had recognized the trademarked symbol of HIM from Bam Margera’s show. Due to that show and Bam’s friends, a lot of people new the heartagram without knowing who had actually come up with it or what it really represented.  
\- You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to....  
\- It’s not a secret. A simple Google search will give you the answer. Just use pentagram, not star, she smirked.  
\- It’s the logo of a band? A metal band? Goth? He didn’t need to search anything. _Who the hell says pentagram to a star?_  
Mel nodded.   
\- But what you sing is not metal...it’s Finnish ...something...  
\- Isn’t Finland the proper country to give a good metal band to the world?  
\- Oh, kid, what have you done? Jon laughed when he finally made the connection.  
Mel didn’t say a thing. She let him be amused by something that in essence was not funny at all.   
\- Bad, bad, bad, baby he crooned between giggles.  
\- What can I say? If you hadn’t written that one, someone else would have had to, she smiled. _You fucked up Ville’s life and according to the latest news you’re doing a pretty good job at fucking up this one’s life too. Pretty impressive, even for you..._  
\- Guitarist? He grinned.  
\- What? _What the hell was he asking her?_  
\- Oh, no! He bit his lower lip and shook his head. The lead singer?  
\- You know nothing, Jon Snow! She said holding his gaze. Hmmm...Snow...It really suits you, isn’t it? She swirled a flock of his hair on her pointer finger. How do you feel about getting blond for this movie? Anxious? Eager?  
\- Huh? The change of the topic was so abrupt he couldn’t comprehend what had happened. The sarcasm in her voice didn’t help either.  
\- You’ll have to dye your hair. What do you think, will it make to the news this time?  
\- _Shit!_ He didn’t even think of that. It’s just hair…  
\- Yes, and you are the opposite of Samson. You cut it and the world was yours…again.  
\- Well, you might want to say a prayer or two to not be the case again, because no one will care about your damn movie.   
\- Bah…I’m used to it! Mel's attitude lightened a bit. It’s interesting because you’re a man, but Iet me show you my perspective. Avengers interview. All the men answer questions regarding their characters’ development, what motivates them, blah, blah. I have to say how I got in that suite or if I’m wearing underwear. Or other brainless curiosity. You are, maybe not the only one, but one of the few men on this planet, that was hit full force by the shallowness women get every day.  
\- So, what are you saying is I’m not that special, I’m a…woman?  
Mel tried to remain serious, but she failed miserably. She started to laugh and he followed, leaving aside all the tension her tattoo had ignited.  
\- Looks like it’s nice outside, she said shifting her gaze to the window.  
\- It is sunny. And kinda warm for this time of the year.  
\- Wanna go for a walk?   
\- Aren’t you hungry?   
\- I am. But I need some fresh air and natural vitamin D. You kept me inside for too long. She put on her white with red roses sweater and headed to the door. Coming? She asked him over her shoulder.   
He didn’t answer but went towards her. Her left hand was resting on the edge of the now opened door and he could distinguish a dark spot right between her thumb and her pointer finger. With every taken step he could feel his pulse accelerating because he could see more and more clear what that stain was. It seemed those few initial meters had transformed in a fucking marathon, his legs were shaking, his heart was racing, his mouth was one of a fish on dry land. And it took him forever to put his fingers over her hand and utter what he wanted.  
\- Mel, what’s this?  
She turned her head on that side and looked at their hands.   
\- Oh, that. Nothing, just an old habit.  
He followed the shape’s contour with his finger and Mel watched him, astonished by his behavior. _What was with him and stars of any kind on that day?_  
 _-_ It’s not a tattoo... It’s just pen… It relaxes me...She was trying to keep her speech coherent, but his finger tracing that shape again and again was hypnotizing her. I’ve done this since childhood. These days it's just hard to find a pen…You had one… _We wrote half of Blood on my guitar with it last night_ …So… _Why am I apologizing? I miss my home. That’s what I do when I miss my home! It’s my thing!_ Mel tried to remember if she had ever seen some star inked on him or if she had ever read something about one, but nothing came to her mind. She was starting to get tired of discovering how much they had in common.  
Jon couldn’t understand what she was trying to say anyway. Deep from his past, a memory surfaced and filled his mind with some song about a shooting star. He let his hand down and sent that vision back behind the wall, right where it belonged.   
\- Why not a tattoo?  
\- One is enough…  
She stepped outside and he closed the door behind them. It may have been the right shape, but it was not the right hand.   
\- Did you forget your phone in the studio? He asked her while they were walking towards the river.  
\- No, why?  
\- Because I’ve called you.  
She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and unlocked it.  
\- Oh, wow…yeah, you did! 10 times! Sorry about that! She said and sat down on the grass.  
\- You’ll ruin your pretty jeans. It’s wet!  
\- Oh, mom! She laughed back. They need to die from something. They are over 20 years…  
\- 20 years?! What the fuck? You do not get paid for your movies? He said and squatted near her.  
\- I just like them. And they have not been in my possession all this time. I’ve left them and found them again and again over the years.   
\- I wear the same jeans until they are torn apart, but you are on a whole new level.  
\- I’ve worn them beyond torn-point. I’ve sewed them, she said and pointed to the golden stars.  
\- Why stars?  
\- Because I like them. She leaned on her back and looked again on her phone. Don’t say something about my sweater too. This is not old and I don’t even like roses, but it’s comfy and warm.  
 _Stars, stars, stars on hands…I’m pretty sure there is a cover of an album with hands…_ She started searching the internet for cover albums _. Gottcha…Oh, God! There is a star…_  
She sent the picture of the Keep the faith album to her friend.  
 _\- Who’s the starry one?_  
She was still faithful to her idea of not google anything about him or his band, even if it was so far from how she was. Usually, if she had a suspicion of any kind she would use any resources she had on her hand to find what intrigued her. She put her phone on her belly and she bent her arms under her head.  
\- It’s nothing spiritual or inspiring, she said. You could say it’s childish. It started with my love for a football team that had that name. The Star. I mean soccer team, sorry! Sometimes I get them wrong! She giggled.  
Jon turned his head to look at her.  
\- A soccer team?!  
\- Yeah…My first love…I thought it would be the biggest and the one that would last forever, but it died…  
\- When you grew up?  
\- No. When the team ceased to exist.   
\- Oh…Harsh!   
\- Yeah…Well, it’s not dead…it’s…complicated…Anyway. I basically grew up near their stadium. On game days you could hear the stadium roaring across the whole neighborhood. It felt like you had a second heart in your chest. When I moved to America that was the hardest goodbye I had to say. Last year they put down the stadium to build a new one for no purpose as there is no team…and they let some fans on the field for the last time. I urged anyone who was in town on that date to go and grab some piece of that field for me. And they did! I have a piece of history in my house. I even cried a little.  
\- The things we do for our teams…Jon laughed.  
\- I’ve seen your chairs in the studio, don’t mock me.  
\- I’m not…I do get what you say.   
\- See this sweater? White and red? For almost twenty years I was not able to wear this combination, because it was from the rival team.  
Jon looked at her incredulously.  
\- You can’t be serious!  
\- But I am…Once I was supposed to catwalk in some red and white dress and they had to change it…  
\- You threw a tantrum over that?! What a diva! Jon laughed.  
\- No! Jesus! Actually, I think I did worse than that...I’ve tried to ignore the colors, but my body betrayed me. And I got a nasty rash! Don’t laugh! It was bad…They thought I was allergic to the fabric, but I was only allergic to that combination of colors.  
\- Your level of commitment is…wow…  
\- Well, it was something stable in a time when nothing else was like that.  
Jon stopped laughing and looked away. Mel felt her phone vibrating and she moved her right hand to take it.  
 _\- You don’t recognize the one and only Prodigal Child?_ She read.  
 _Fuck!_  
She wanted to put the phone back when it vibrated again in her hand.  
 _\- Is this like a secret code? You used to draw one on your hand…_  
 _\- A lot of people have stars inked on their hands. AJ has two…_  
 _\- Sure they have. But not many of them are the ultimate runaways. :)))_  
 _Double fuck!_  
She let the phone drop on her chest. Unlike Tia, Oana didn’t give a damn about her vanishing moment from America. For her, it was just a funny coincidence. For Mel, the whole situation began more and more to look like torture.   
\- It means home, Mel said to chase away from his mind any trace of resemblance. She didn’t know why Richie had that tattoo, but home could not be a reason. Just…home, she repeated. There was no need to say she was talking about the star on her hand.  
Jon smiled to himself. The little star on her wedding ring made sense now. For someone who hadn’t have for years a clue about her identity home could not be a place. She was living in Spain, yes, but her home was where her husband and kids were.  
\- I’m selling this one, he said as he got to his feet.  
\- What happened to this house is not for sale?  
\- That is another kind of house…  
\- Why? She stood on her elbows to take a look at him. His gaze, she assumed, was lost in the distance.  
\- Time for something new.  
\- Where are you moving to? She didn’t know why she was assailing him with those questions. She just knew selling that house did not feel right. _Does not feel right for whom? For his kids who grew up here? For him? Or for that ghost that you bump into at every step?_  
\- I don’t know yet…We haven’t quite decided…  
She looked at the small star painted on her hand… _Triple fuck!_ She stood up, frantically rubbing the pen off of her skin.   
\- I’m getting cold! And I need a shower…  
\- Hot tea instead of wine for today? House, not the studio? He smiled at her over his shoulder.  
\- Sounds like a plan.  
\- Don’t make me come after you again, ok?  
\- Aye Aye, Captain! She said and headed to the guest house, blocking all the thoughts about what hurt a departure can bring in someone’s life. She didn’t need to be reminded. She didn’t need to feel miserable again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tattoo on Mel's leg is the logo of HIM. Their second album was supposed to be called Slippery when dead (as a wicked tribute to Bon Jovi), but they've changed it to Razorblade Romance.


	7. Chapter 7

They were in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. Mel had eaten half of a sandwich before her stomach decided food and last night’s alcohol were not a match made in heaven and she had to leave it aside.   
\- I don’t want to hear complaints from your husband if you get too skinny. I didn’t starve you! Jon joked.  
Mel didn’t like his newfound fatherly attitude towards her, even if it barely could be distinguished as one. It crossed her mind to compare him to a mom again, but she let the thought disperse into oblivion.   
\- There’s no such thing as too skinny in Hollywood, she said instead.  
\- Your husband is not Hollywood.   
\- Hmm…Speaking of him, you have to see this.  
\- What? He asked trying to look over her shoulder on her phone.   
\- A video from my kids. Apparently, they were asking why I'm not there and my husband told them that I have to help a nice man, his words, not mine, Mel accentuated, to record some songs. They were curious who the nice man was and he played some of your songs…that were not exactly unknown to them. Alexis had the idea to sing something to show me their support and Cristina chose the song and, according to Yiannis, you are not supposed to see this, but I have a feeling it will be damn funny so, yeah, I'm trashing my kids.   
Jon moved to her side and Mel started the video. The girl was shaking some tambourine and the boy was playing a ukulele. Their sweet voices came in a little later leaving both Mel and Jon with their mouths open.   
\- Oh my God... Mel whispered.   
\- Is that... Is that my song?   
\- They are absolutely clueless about what they are saying. I'm dying here, Mel said half laughing, half breaking into pieces because she was missing them like crazy.   
\- This is by far the cutest cover of Prayer I have ever seen and heard, Jon smiled. Some good sense of rhythm your daughter has and your son...Oh my God!  
\- I didn't even know she likes this song to be honest. And I didn't know they learned how to play those damn instruments. I mean they always want to play with their father, but it never seemed serious.   
As soon as they stopped singing, the kids jumped from their little chairs and gathered around the camera mimicking kisses and hugs.   
\- What are they saying? Jon asked because he was not even sure what languages that was.   
Mel bit her lips trying to hold back her tears.   
\- They miss me, but it's OK. They understand I have to work and I don't have to worry about them...and...Mel chocked. She put her spare hand over her mouth and swallowed hard... And they did this to cheer me up because they know how good it is to have someone to support you. Like I do for them... her voice broke, but she didn’t let herself cry in front of him.  
\- Mel... Was all he could say.   
Being away from their families was part of their lifestyle, it was part of who they were, and while she didn’t seem to be quite the emotional type, when your 5-year-olds acted all brave for you, you could do only one thing. Break. You could be made out of adamant and you would break. He thought about hugging her, a shoulder to cry on would have been a decent response, especially because it would come from somebody who knew it was not easy to cope with that kind of longing, but he had always been better of writing lyrics about those kind of stuff than actually doing them. Moreover, he could clearly sense that she was not expecting, no, that she didn't want some gestures of affection from him. He put his right hand on her shoulder and he caressed her arm as clumsy as a kindergarten boy would approach his very first crush. His unexpected shyness brought a vague smile on Mel’s lips.  
\- Oh, you're both here! Taken aback by his wife's presence, Jon almost jumped back making Mel wonder what was going on. You OK, Mel? Dot asked her when she saw her teary eyes.   
\- Yeah... Kind of. Missing my family mostly, nothing new. She waved her hand through the air like it was not such a big deal.   
\- Can I? Jon asked Mel pointing to her phone.  
\- What? Oh... You wanna see that again?!  
\- They are adorable and I think Dot will be on the same page with me.  
Mel tapped on the play button again and turned the phone to Dot.  
\- Oh, they are so cute! Wait, what are they singing?  
Both Jon and Mel assured her by nodding that she had correctly identified the song.  
\- This is both hilarious and adorable. And good! Oh, they look like little angels.  
\- Yeah, don't let their looks fool you. Mel turned off the video, because she could not see her kids’ speech again. Let me show you something else. So, this is my boy trying to be a gymnast or just fly, I’m not sure what he was up to. In a shaky video, Alexis jumped from what seemed a pile of tables and chairs to a branch of a tree. The improvised trampoline collapsed, but he managed to grasp the branch, only the tree was not having it and the wood just cracked sending the branch and Alexis to the ground.   
\- Fuck! Jon exclaimed. Is he alive?  
\- Sweet Jesus!   
\- And.. the aftermath, Mel showed them some photos of a bruised blond, blue eyed boy. He had these scars on his angelic face for weeks. Luckily nothing broken. And he's the...mellow one, so to say. Cristina is in some trouble all the time. This is her not giving a shit that the hill in front of her is too big.   
\- She's on a motorcycle!  
\- I’ve told you I have a mini motocross track in my backyard. I didn't built it for me, Mel laughed. Anyway, here is her aftermath.   
\- Oh, poor kid! Dot said.   
\- Her legs are covered in blood and she's all smiles?!   
\- She loved the sensation of being in the air and she almost landed, so she was exited. I died a little when I saw her, I'm not immune to their accidents. I know I might sound like that.   
\- A little bit, Dot laughed.   
\- Yeah... Little, Jon said gesturing something big with his hands.   
\- Every time I'm about to say stop, this is too much I remember I was the same as a kid. I felt just like my son did, only I landed on my back, Mel laughed. I couldn’t breathe for an hour like a normal human being and I couldn’t move properly for a month. I would have loved to have a kid’s bike. Not sure if I'd be alive though. So, as my husband says all the time, they were born to be my babies.  
\- And the singing? Jon asked with a catty smile.  
\- Well, they were born to be his babies too. I can't take all the credits for making them.  
\- You have beautiful children, Mel, although I have to say, they don’t look like twins at all.  
\- They are boy and girl, Mel laughed. But, yeah, they couldn’t be more different one from another. It’s like they have split our genes. I’m gonna take mama’s looks and daddy’s character and I’m gonna go vice-versa. The blue eyes part is not hard to explain, but it’s not about splitting anything. My son is my “be careful what you wish for” reminder and my daughter is “you’ll see what a devil you were when you’ll have kids” karma bill.  
\- Be careful what you wish for? Jon amusedly raised an eyebrow at her.  
\- When I was a little girl, very little and naive, I kinda pictured my future kids just like my son looks now. But, what I didn’t picture, was his constant need for people around him. He needs human interaction. He likes being cuddled, he hugs strangers with no shame and fear, especially beautiful women, I must say. Yiannis finds it hilarious.   
\- It is…  
\- Ah, daddy being proud for nothing? Dot laughed.  
\- Daddy being absolutely clueless what his son can wake up in some ladies. Sure, now it’s sweet and innocent, but add a few years and you get Discovery Channel, Cougar’s edition.  
Jon started to laugh, a slightly nervous laugh.  
\- He’ll be just fine! He said trying to ignore Dot’s sharp look, the “ _why the heck are you telling her this? You know better than anyone he might not be fine at all!_ ” look. Aren’t you a little bit sexist?  
\- Hey, if he ends up being a toyboy after his twenties is one thing. I’m perfectly aware of how many people regard my marriage and I think I’m aloud to say age is just a number…on some occasions. Because if he ends up being a toyboy while he’s still innocent enough to not understand what is happening to him…that’s not a decision, or a lifestyle, or love…that is plain wrong!  
Her words echoed in his mind, ringing an old and dusty string. Really old. Two lives ago old. Why the hell it could even still ring? He could understand her worries, what normal parent would want something like that for his kid? And what normal parent would start worrying for that so early? Who could be able to see behind the cuteness of the scene of a young boy innocently snuggling in a lady’s arms? _That is plain wrong…_ rolled again in his mind. _Wrong…_ It was the way she had stressed that word, the way her muscles tensed when she had closed her fists, the way the air had left her lungs a second later than normal, the wicked flicker in her eyes…two lives ago old flicker.  
 _Fuck, no, kid! No, no, no!_ Jon shuddered inwardly.  
\- How’s the soundtrack doing? Dot changed the subject.  
Mel’s eyes bore into Jon’s for one more moment and it was all it took for that dusty scarred string to be noticed. It took one to know one and he turned away a second too late than he should have.  
\- Starting to look like one, Jon said. While on that subject, we have some work to finish, Mel!  
\- We really do. I postponed everything for far too long for this…  
\- I have concerts in some other part of the world. Bye, bye America for both of us!  


\- What are you doing? Mel asked him when she entered the room and saw him seated in front of the piano. I thought we are going back to the studio.  
\- We’ve said no studio today, remember? He smiled and started to play random, but musically pleasing notes.  
Mel leaned against the door frame and took a sip from her tea.  
\- Besides, you were right. You haven’t heard me singing since you’ve come here.  
\- I heard you last night, what are you saying?  
\- Eh, that was crooning, not singing. Choose a song…that I know, preferably.  
\- Uuh, my little private concert, Mel grinned. Let’s see…I want to hear …something you’ve never sung on stage.  
\- Great…Jon tried to sound annoyed despite the fact he was actually amused by her request.  
\- I can’t tell if you comply or not, but I hope I’ve made you think at some interesting choices. You were slowly falling into Hallelujah.  
\- I was not even thinking of that song, Jon defended.  
\- Your fingers were…  
\- Fine, no Leonard Cohen for you.  
With still no song in his mind, he continued to gently hit the keys, until his fingers decided for him. He didn’t quite know the song, not only he had not played it on a stage, he hadn’t played it to anyone, ever. He had heard it a few days ago, after a few years hiatus, and apparently it had stuck with him.  
Leave me out with the waste, he began and that first verse knocked the air out of Mel's lungs. Her fingers curled around the mug as if it was a lifeline. As if it could anchor her in reality and prevent her from falling into the music.

This is not what I do  
It's the wrong kind of place  
To be thinking of you, he continued and then just hummed along because he had no idea what the next lyrics were. He looked at Mel who didn’t seem to mind that he was messing the song. _Maybe she doesn’t know it._ When he was about to jump into the second strophe, what he knew from it anyway, he heard Mel shyly croon. She had a better knowledge of the lyrics than he had, but he could not say the same for the melody. The song didn’t go for sure like they were doing it, however it didn’t sound like they were both singing their own version. Somehow they were singing the same invented thing.   
\- Look at that, he can sing! Jon joked as they ended their little duo.  
\- Huh?  
\- You’re face. That’s what it says. You look amazed by my singing, when I should be the amazed one.  
\- That’s not what my face says… I just…I didn’t expect Damien Rice. Not this song…And, ok, I didn’t expect to hear…I don’t know what I’m trying to say, Mel gave up. What was to be said anyway? That it was weird that he had chosen a cheating song? That it was her Damien Rice favorite one? That his voice just curled around her heart like a warm-blood snake? She had heard him sing slow songs before, not everything he has done was vocal cords killer, but she’d be damned if she had imagined he could sound like that. So raw and honest, wearing a part of his soul she did not know on his sleeves. And she’d be damned if she had imagined it could affect her like it did.  
\- Did you put some rum into your tea? He raised an interrogative eyebrow at her.  
\- No! She snorted.   
\- Come! He said and move a little to make some room for her on the stool. Take a seat!  
Mel was inclined to ask him why and just stay glued in the doorway, but her body betrayed her. She let the mug on the piano and started to move towards him as if she was under a spell. _Shit_! An alarmed voice shouted in vain inside her. Once she was seated, Jon started to play another song.  
\- That’s Ava! she exclaimed and he approved by nodding.  
The lyrics were quite scrambled, they hadn’t agreed last night what the order should be. Inspiration had left them after the first verse, so there was no ending. Mel closed her eyes and started to gently sway on the rhythm.  
\- Don’t stop, she said without opening her eyes.  
\- There are no more lyrics…  
She gesticulated a “Don’t care. Go on!”and kept her body moving as if the piano had never stopped. Jon resumed his playing and she started to hum along.   
\- There! Her eyes snapped open. Can you make it sound like a…fall?  
\- Huh? Jon looked baffled at her.  
\- Fall out of the rhythm…but not too obvious.  
\- I’m trying to understand you, but you have to be more explicit.  
\- How should I say this? Mel tilted her head back and covered her face with her hands, in slight frustration. We need a change in the second part. It will stay a mellow song, I don’t see how a powerful end would suit it, but something has to change. Like…hmmmm…pum…she tried to hum what she had in mind. Great! I’m making a fool out of myself, she mumbled.  
Jon rolled his eyes and refused to encourage her baseless fears. He hit the keys as she wanted.  
\- Like this?  
\- Almost. You need to keep that change. From that point on it has to sound more…fatidic.   
\- Where are you going with this song?  
\- He marks her. It’s not his intention, Ava doesn’t even exist when the song is first created, but it’s a song that affects her in the end. So it starts all sweet and nice and then something that looks innocent and harmless happens and things change. I’m looking for that prediction sound in the instruments, because the lyrics will not deliver that. They will stay sinless. Like a chaste kiss…I kissed your heel, you’ve fall out of the rhythm, Mel crooned.  
\- Heel? From what corner of your mind did you come up with these lyrics?  
\- Hey, I’ve crossed oceans of wine to find them. Be considerate! Mel joked.  
\- Oceans of wine... That could be an interesting song.  
\- It’s already written, Mel said and quickly came back to their own, depriving him of the chance to ask whose song was that. Every time you start playing Ava’s song, an image forms in my mind. The young Nathan on the bed strumming his guitar and Ava’s mother with a white bedsheet around her stepping on the beat of the song, going God knows where.  
If Mel hadn’t been so caught up in her explanation, she would have seen the shock in Jon’s eyes. Her arrhythmic jumps gave him the main idea, but the melody came from her firsts steps on her demo silent dance. He didn’t recall telling her that last night and it was kind of scary that they have almost the same image in mind. It was a good thing, but scary!  
\- That’s the happy beginning. But a kiss on her heel would make her step different. Maybe it’s a painful kiss, maybe she doesn’t want to crush it, either way she limps and her rhythm will never be the same as the song’s.   
\- You’re song has changed, he summed up Mel’s words.  
\- Through time so I can hear it, she ended.  
\- OK…Let’s see, Jon said and tried again, this time using the fresh lyrics.   
\- That’s perfect!  
\- Kid, let me tell you something. No one, and I mean no one, will understand what this song is about!  
\- Come on, there’s a movie that explains it.  
\- Wanna bet? Jon laughed.  
\- Play it from the beginning, Mel ignored his playful mood. Oh, and drop the last line in the first part. It doesn’t make any sense.  
\- Will you be this bossy on the set? Jon amusedly frowned at her.  
\- Oh, I’m sorry. Drop the last line, please! She laughed.  
\- I’ll play the piano and you can drop anything you want.  
\- You mean you want me to sing alone? Mel sounded terrified.  
\- Not alone. You have the piano.  
\- Yeah…that’s pretty much nothing for me.   
\- I don’t get. You have a nice voice, you can keep the melody, what stops you?  
\- That’s the thing. I can’t keep it. I have to hear it in my head, but usually this is not happening. It’s just…void. When I open my mouth, my mind erases every note. Or makes a mess out of them. It doesn’t matter if I’m alone or surrounded by people. It gets worse when I have a public, Rock and Roll inductee or not, but it’s not the main factor. I was not made to sing, it’s that simple! She smiled in acceptance.  
\- Who lied to you?  
\- My music teacher in the 6th grade? Mel almost rhetorically said.  
\- Ah, music teachers…killing kids' dreams since forever.  
\- It was never my dream to sing. Or act for the matter.  
\- Really? And what did you dream of becoming?  
\- Hmm…I had an inclination for nerdy things. I wanted to build and fly aircrafts or spaceships. And fight some bad guys while doing this. Or be a soccer player…that was my secret dream.  
\- You’ve fallen way, way too far from your tree of dreams! Jon laughed.  
\- Not really. I can do all that in my movies, she smiled. Look, you can be mad at me, I’ll take it! But I’ve said I have a problem with singing again and again right from the start.  
He could do that. He could get mad, but what good? If he wasn’t able to understand her struggles, who the fuck could? For a whole year, not even the shower curtains had heard him. And sometimes he felt like he was close to that point again.   
\- Enough with the whining, he said without any trace of irritation in his voice. I’ll sing it, step in whenever you feel like.  
\- And will you drop the last line? She batted her eyelashes at him.  
Jon gave her a fake annoyed glance.  
\- Yes, I’ll drop it. And I’ll change the second with the fourth while I’m there.  
\- Ok, you do that! She accepted with an inner smile. They did make more sense if they were changed, he was right.  
Jon started the song and, to his surprise, Mel followed sooner than he expected. Followed was not the exact term, maybe harmonizing was closer to reality. But it was not that entirely either. It was a dialogue and he briefly asked himself how the hell he could achieve that without her singing the entire song. As the last notes faded, he looked at her and saw a well too known flicker of excitement in her eyes. Ah, that moment when you knew you did it!  
\- I think we have a song, he whispered.  
\- Yeah, I think that too, she said. _A song…Holy shit, a song!_   
Without giving even a first thought, she raised her left fist. It had been an impulse coming out of exuberance and it took her a moment to realize what she was doing. Jon didn’t have time for any reaction. Her eyes filled with something that looked a lot like horror and quickly dropped from his eyes onto her closed hand. In less than a second her fingers snapped open like they were on springs. She let her arm down with her breath caught in her lungs.  
 _Fuck!_  
After a few moments of astonishment, Jon grabbed her hand, gently brought her fingers in the closed position and, with the most heartfelt smile Mel’s had ever seen on him, he ended the fist bump she had started. He was about to say something and Mel was about to crawl out of her skin or just under the piano, when Jesse came into the room.  
\- So you’re making a soundtrack after all! Nice song! He said and vanished from the room leaving both Mel and Jon confused in his wake.  
\- Interesting, Mel murmured and finally exhaled. Two of your boys adore me and one wants me dead.  
\- He doesn’t want you dead…  
Mel raised an ironic eyebrow at him.  
\- But I have no idea what the fuck that was, Jon admitted.  
\- He crossed to the gossip side, Jon! Mel laughed and rose.  
\- Yeah, that’s obvious, but why?  
Mel shrugged.   
\- Beats me, she whispered. Listen, I’m too tired now to go to the studio and try to record anything. Is it ok for you if we do this tomorrow in the morning?  
\- Yeah, sure. No problem! Dinner is ready in an hour, I think.  
\- If I don’t fall asleep, I’ll join you, she lied. She needed some time alone to sort a few things out before being around him again.   
Jon nodded.  
\- Mel…You know you can call him by his name, right? He asked her when she was already turned with his back at him.  
Mel took the mug from the piano.  
\- No, no I can’t, she said as she was leaving the room. On her left hand, the remains of the star perforated her flesh with their sting. _It’s the wrong time for somebody new_ , spun in her head like a scratched vinyl disk. She didn’t want someone new, she didn’t want to be somebody new. But was it really wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jon plays is 9 Crimes by Damien Rice.  
> I've crossed oceans of wine to find you is a never released HIM song.


	8. Chapter 8

\- Relax, kid! Jon tried to hearten her. It’s just singing not a death sentence.  
Mel was not so sure about that. It surely looked like a death sentence to her. Whatever courage sprang in her mind in the last couple of days was now gone. She found herself in the exact first square she thought she had stepped out of _. You sang it yesterday, it’s just a strophe, pull yourself together and by tonight you can be out of here._ Whatever part of her brain was responsible for singing did not react to common sense, or sweet talk, or menaces. It didn’t react to anything. It was frozen just like it had been when Yiannis wanted Cristina’s song properly recorded in the studio.  
\- Who the hell relaxes when is told to? She bristled up.   
\- People usually. Come on, cut the crap! Just open your mouth and enjoy the experience! He didn’t realize how close to inappropriate his choice of words was until he felt his head being speared by some well-directed poison-green daggers that were coming from Mel’s eyes. Daggers that announced at least one acid replica. He was stoically waiting for it, but instead of that, a hiss like a light breeze filled the room and ghosted over him, causing goosebumps to rise all over his body.  
\- Yes, boss…  
\- What the?!…  
-...I’m on the mike…  
Jon was not sure with which of his senses he perceived those words, because all of them melted down into an exploding synesthesia. If you didn’t count the stars and sparks he was seeing, hearing and tasting, his vision was down. And so was his blood.  
\- …I’ll try to give you what you like…  
That purr made of silk, leather, and promises charged the air and his skin, even through a considerable layer of clothes. His breath remained caught in his lungs as the reality of the studio distorted under the startling eroticism in Mel’s voice. Was that the proper word? Eroticism? Who the fuck could tell? He could not tell his name at that specific moment. Her almost palpable voice washed over him, lasted one more moment in abeyance before it alighted on his already overly sensitive body, igniting him.  
\- Then give me Ava already! He finally managed to shout.  
He could only hope he had been able to yell that at her and that his voice had not been too squeaky, or hoarse, or needy, or fucking aroused like he was.   
\- I'm trying! Mel yelled back without having the slightest idea that she had just administrated him an overdose of an acoustic Viagra.   
- _Oh, Jon, I can't sing! Find someone else, I can't do it...Oh no!... Oh my!.._.he mentally mimicked her. Try harder! _But you see, I can make your dick jump like you're a desperate teenager with only a fucking whisper!…_  
He rolled his eyes and let his head drop on the desk with a heavy sigh.   
\- _Unbelievable!..._   
That was not for sure how he had pictured that day when he had got up.  
\- That's not how the song goes, he said after she had decided to give it a try.   
\- I know... But I can't get it right. Not even in my mind...   
\- Don't think too much. Just let it out... He was still bent over the desk, gently rocking in his chair in a back and forth motion.   
\- You know what?   
\- Hmmm? He mumbled.   
\- This is not working. We need to try something else.   
\- No say!…  
What else was left to try? Except for that plan C which suddenly started to look very appealing even to him.  
\- I think… I need you inside me!  
He sat bolt upright as quick as a released from a burdensome tension spring would straighten to its normal dimensions. At the same time, his eyes flew open, however his vision was no better than minutes ago. Proverbial stars were still sparkling in his line of sight.  
 _\- Hell yeah!_ A feverish yell reverberated inside him. _Ouch! Jeans?! Why the fuck are jeans in my way?!_ The tone of that inner voice changed to disgruntled.  
He blinked a few times totally confused by what was happening outside and inside him.  
\- I mean your voice… Inside my head... Jesus Jon, you should have seen your face! Mel laughed still blind to the real proportions of the havoc she unintentionally had created.  
\- _Oh yeah? And you should see what's under the desk...t_ he resentful voice ironically bitched _. Jesus fucking Christ! How was that even possible?_ He sighed as he made an effort to relax and send the blood to all the extremities of his body. Not that he could route the blood at will, but it was good for his conscience to at least try.  
\- I can’t hear myself, but maybe if I hear you I’ll trick my brain.  
\- Have you considered seeing a vocal coach or something for this movie? A meticulous actor would have done it.  
\- Vocal couches help you from the moment sound is willing to get out of you.  
\- A shrink perhaps?  
He sounded way more cynical than it was the case, but to hell with everything. He was not the one that had started the war that morning.  
\- Well, it could have been a solution, Mel let him have his moment of irritation.   
Warned or not, it was still frustrating they were so close to the end and yet so far.   
\- But Martin wanted this movie to be ready by mid-2020. And you know how it is with doctors. They lay you on a sofa and they force you to talk about your mother and I just have too many of them, Mel theatrically sighed and rolled her eyes, a crooked half-smile on her face.   
_Now, come on! She must have read or heard this at some point!_ Jon thought _._ She just couldn’t come up with his “talk about your momma” irony out of nothing.  
And yet, bigger chances were she could. She masked a disturbing reality under a funny statement. She did have more mothers than normal, she had been through shitty situations most people would never be put through. And when all you wanted and needed was someone who could listen, fake a slight interest in your misery and help you, and all you got was a cold, impersonal “Your time is up”, your trust in therapists would forever vanish. He knew. It didn’t matter you did not get a proper recovery. So what inside you were murky places and dusty strings that still could ring? You were functional. Maybe that was not even her explanation. Maybe something else had happened. It didn't change anything. She was functional and that was all it mattered. They were functional. And not disposed to let themselves shuttered to pieces by an unknown person, a necessary preamble for a proper reconstruction. Because no one could guarantee that reconstruction.  
\- What am I trying to sing here, anyway? Ava doesn’t know the song hidden in Nathan’s studio. That scene pictures her strumming his guitar and crooning something that resembles a song Dean knows. The guitar is only rhythmical in the song he knows, a rhythm she is unaware of. Where are you going? She asked him when she saw him leaving his spot.  
\- I quit! He said and raised his arms in surrender.   
\- Ha, ha! Funny! She said trying to hold back her worry.   
She watched him moving around the studio, taking his sweet time to do what he had to. Check if the guitar needed some tuning and open a bottle of wine. Nothing of that made any sense to her, he knew. He could feel Mel's panic grow bigger and bigger. _Good, let her agonize for a bit! She deserves it!_  
\- No, really, what are you doing? Mel asked him when he was in front of her holding the guitar in one hand and the bottle in the other.  
\- Pick one! He urged her with an inscrutable attitude.  
Mel reached for the bottle but stopped halfway.  
\- No, wait…she said and went for the guitar. She stopped again before touching it. Ah, fuck it! She frustratingly exclaimed.  
Jon lost his composure as he watched Mel struggling with a non-existing decision.   
\- Go for the wine, kid! He suggested.  
\- What sick mind games are you playing with me? She inquired him and took the guitar from his hand.  
Jon started to laugh and sat on the floor.  
\- Try a B minor, he said and took a sip of wine.  
Mel looked down at him, still trying to figure out what he was up to.  
\- It’s too sad.  
\- Hmm, I was thinking is too hard to hold, he smirked.  
\- I know the cheating shortcut.   
\- And when did you learn how a chord sounds?  
\- You said minor. Aren’t these supposed to sound sad and melancholic?  
\- You need some melancholy in it. It is a happy song for Ava, but it comes from moments that are impossible to relive, right?   
He took another swig from the bottle. Mel looked for one more second at him, before she lowered herself and gracefully folded her legs in a lotus position.  
\- Give me that! She said and reached for the bottle.  
Jon handed it to her with a smile on his face. _God, how she didn’t like to be blindfolded dragged in unknown situations._ It was almost comical to watch her. She drank a generous mouth and set the bottle aside.   
\- And now what? She asked him after she strummed the strings once.  
He noticed she didn’t go for the easy shape of the chord but didn’t bring it up.  
\- Now you pluck the strings in this order, he said and indicated her the sequence. And then you move your middle finger here, and your forefinger here and your pinky…  
 _You must be kidding me!_ Mel’s facial expression was telling him.  
\- Just…give it a try.  
She curled her lips and stared at the ceiling for a moment before she let her back roll to straighten on the floor. She unfolded her legs and brought the guitar on her belly.  
\- You know, she said as she was plucking the strings as she had been told, Ava doesn’t know how to play this damn instrument.  
\- Neither do you!  
Mel started to laugh.  
\- True. But seriously, I think we should go for a simpler whatever this is.  
\- Maybe she took guitar lessons when she was little. We don’t know. The script doesn’t tell us.  
\- She didn’t, Mel responded perfectly aware Jon was not talking about Ava.  
\- Oh, ok.   
He took one more sip of wine and crawled beside her. He groped for the guitar and took it from her. _Why the hell do you prefer this shitty uncomfortable position?_ Jon wanted to ask her, but his back would not hurt less the next morning, regardless of her answer, so he focused on what was important at that moment. Their song.  
\- That sounds nice, Mel whispered. To Jon, her voice seemed to come from a different time.  
He started to sing and soon she followed, conducting a conversation he did not know how to reproduce later without her. It was over. Her journey in the studio had come to an end. They didn’t have anything recorded yet, but now it was just a matter of time. A little wine, a little of his voice in her head and that was it. He should have gotten up and finished the job, but he just couldn’t find the willpower to rise from the floor. It was nice to lie there and play a little tune for someone who…Jon’s mind slipped into a past when he was that someone, not the one playing. _Yeah, it was nice._ It had been nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The melody Mel whispers is Yes boss by Hess is more.


	9. Chapter 9

She was back in the studio after an almost four weeks break. She could have patiently waited for Jon to present her and Martin the finished songs, but she was not the one who could say no to a short stopover. Long flights were a nightmare. Plus, a sneak peek really thrilled her. Except the things were a little different than she had expected. The atmosphere in the room had never been as heavy as now, and she couldn't explain why. By all appearances, she was the only one who felt something was wrong, Jon and whoever the other man was were engrossed in what they were doing and she could tell they were not aware of anything strange around them.   
- _Wanna see the magic in action?_ Jon had asked her earlier and she had agreed to stay with them, but she was not able to see any magic. Or hear. Or imagine. Their songs were gone. The lyrics were there, most of the time the melody was there, but all the little details, all the little touches she loved had been erased in that mixing or producing or how the hell that process was called. Did they sound good? Yes. However, they were too far from how she had hoped they would be. _If you didn’t know anything about the opening song, would you like it or not?_ She tried once again to be rational. _Yes, but..._ There was always a but and, in that particular case, was about being too damn polished. The innocence and exuberance of an 80s song had been sanded into a corporate approach on life. She expected some good old guitar riffs and she founded...She was not sure what the hell she founded. _He knows what he's doing, you got your stories right, it’s time to step back..._ Except for Ava’s song. For Ava’s song, she would fight him, she would fight that guy and any other guy who could possibly be involved, she would fight the whole fucking music industry, aliens and any God would show up if she had to.   
\- Jon, I’m gonna go and spend some girltime with Dot.   
\- Bored already? I thought you’ll be more into it! He smiled although that “girltime” tried to ring some alarm in his brain. They did get along pretty well, but feeding on Ben and Jerry’s and watching The Notebook was not quite their ideal way of spending an evening.   
\- No idea what you are doing here and jet lag bites my ass right now, she apologized with a hint of humor who was more than gone when she turned her attention to the other man. It was nice meeting you! Her most professional tone and smile were delivered.  
She went out of the studio and Jon got back to being immersed in what he was doing.  


\- Hey, honey! Jon greeted his wife when he finally got back to the house. Mel is not here? He kissed her gently on her cheek.   
\- She waited for you for two hours. Not very nice of you.  
\- I didn’t do it on purpose…did she leave? Did she go to sleep?  
\- No. She said she’s going for a walk, but that was one hour ago.   
Jon took his phone out to call her, but before he could identify her number, Mel opened the door and entered the room.  
\- Oh, you’re here. Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.  
 _Did she just give him her formal self?_ An alarm bell rang again somewhere in his brain but it was too weak and too enfolded to make it to a conscious thought.  
\- I just came in. It took longer than I expected. Sorry…  
\- Yeah, don’t worry! You did what you had to do!  
\- Can we talk at a late dinner? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.  
Dot wanted to admonish her husband for his lack of manners, it was true that Mel was no stranger to their home anymore, but that didn’t mean she had to face his workaholic side just yet. Not that she was way different from him. Actually, sometimes it was almost scary how much alike they behaved.  
\- You can have dinner, but we’re not gonna discuss work! It can wait, Mel softly smiled and looked at Dot, their eyes conducting a mute dialogue of “I’m sorry”s and “Don’t worry”s. She didn’t manage to find a proper way to present him her complaints so any delay was heaven sent. Is the studio open?   
\- Yeah, you can go. You can listen to the songs. Most of them are finished.  
\- I will do that, she forced herself to smile and went outside in the night.  
\- Did you have to fight her again to make her spend the night here? Jon asked her distractedly.  
\- Not quite. Hun, have you asked her at least how’s she doing? Something, anything besides work?  
\- But she is here for work, not for chit chat. Why am I getting scolded? He gave her a playful smile.  
\- You’re not, is just…. Don’t you think she’s a little bit….not herself?  
\- No, he lied. That was clearly something wrong and the answer would have been too simple to be his lack of interest in her family life. So, what’s good for dinner? He changed the subject.  
\- Whatever you can find in the fridge, I’m going to sleep. She gave him a quick kiss and went to the stairs. Ah, and take the garbage out!  
\- The words every man dreams of hearing, Jon mumbled and headed to the kitchen.  


He was surprised to find Mel sitting in his spot, not that there was an interdiction or anything, but she had always preferred the couch or the armchair. She was slowly giving the chair a slue from time to time, making it go a full circle and then patiently waiting for it to stop.  
\- Hey...  
She put both her feet on the ground and stopped that dizzying movement.  
\- Hey...  
\- Sorry I’ve been so caught up. I didn’t even have the chance to ask you how was home.  
\- Fine. I didn’t stay too much though, but it was more than enough to end up hating Living on a prayer.  
Her overall mood didn’t seem to change even if she was fairly amused by her children’s obsession with that song.   
_\- Well, it’s worth a try!_ Jon slightly smiled and approached her. Did you listen to the songs?  
\- Yeah...  
\- And?  
\- And...I don’t know where to begin.  
\- OK...This is not exactly the reaction I’ve expected from you.  
\- _Join the club! I didn’t expect this outcome either but here we are._ I’m not saying they don’t sound good, because they do. I just...I guess in my mind they sounded different and now I don’t recognize them anymore.  
\- I can’t enter your mind more than I’ve already done it, Mel! he sneered as he was starting to lose his nerve.   
She ignored his tone and calmly spoke.  
\- Do you like them?  
\- Of course I do, what question is this?  
\- Do you think they fit the story?  
\- We practically wrote the script once again with these songs, Mel, of course they fit! Listen, when you left we had only scratches and ideas. Give them a chance, will you?  
\- Ava’s song is gone, Jon! Maybe you are right about the rest, but Ava’s song...she sighed and let her shoulders slightly drop as the air deserted her lungs.   
\- Ava’s song is gone?! What Ava are you talking about, ‘cause mine has a pretty fucking good one!   
Her attempt to carry an adequate discussion turned into a failure as Jon significantly raised his voice. Mel inhaled deeply, mentally counting to ten in three different languages to calm herself enough so she would not fall into his footsteps.   
\- It was supposed to be an unfinished song!  
\- Yeah, well, now it’s finished! And it’s amazing! A fucking hit!  
\- I don’t need a hit! I don’t give a damn about hits!   
She did not know why those words made her so angry, but her self control vanished and there were no signs of a coming back. All her sweet features turned into harsh cold lines as she stood up and confronted him.   
\- Nathan is not hiding a hit in his drawer, nobody does that! You hide secrets, heartaches, dead bodies, but not hits! What Ava sings is not a simplified form of a masterpiece, for Christ’s sake!   
\- It deserves a proper version!   
\- There’s no place for a proper version! _“_ I kissed your heel, you fell out of the rhythm _”..._ Where is the falling, hmm? It’s dead and buried in violins, there’s where it is!  
\- Are you kidding me?! You’re complaining about the violins? You?! “Put a good violin in any song and you’ll hear the hearts breaking and melting”?!  
Jon couldn't believe his ears. She loved violins, she had told him that.  
\- I’ve never said it doesn’t sound good. It does! But it’s another story. The one I imagined, the one we both imagined only needs a guitar and a piano! Nothing more!   
\- I’m not giving up on this song, Mel!  
\- One of us has to! She didn’t sound all fired up as before. She was demanding now, straight back, chin up, piercing gaze down on him. Jon never felt the difference in their heights like he did now, nor he hated it like now.   
\- You’ve chosen the wrong opponent, kid! Jon apprised her.  
\- Don’t kid me! She said through gritted teeth.  
\- I’ve done my job, I’ve done my job pretty damn well! You can’t say it isn’t so! They are good songs and you know it! I can’t imagine what you hear in your head more than I already did! How more of you have you wanted to find in them, huh?   
\- It’s not about me! God! It’s about you! She aimed her forefinger at his chest, close to where his heart was frantically beating.  
\- Me?!  
\- I expected to find you! And I don’t feel you in that cacophony of instruments that marks Nathan’s enlightening moment. All I feel is confusion! When the fuck did you decide Blood on my guitar is about the killing of a guitar solo? Her hand was not pointing to him anymore, but vaguely to the place where the guitars were lying, mute witnesses of a war of words. And egos. What wrong did that guitar part to you that you felt the need to cover it up? There’s a guitarist in that band! Use it! Or did you forget how it is to have one?!  
For a moment there was a complete and deafening silence.  
\- Shit…her lips murmured but no sound made it into the air.   
She watched the blue in his eyes turning into dark anger as his body and mind got into full rage, fight back mode. Mel mentally braced herself for what was now inevitable to happen. This time he would not surprise her and reverse gears to a serene state because this time she had thrust deeper and harder a knife that was already there.   
\- How dare you?! He thundered. Who do you think you are to give me lessons on how to do my job? My job! Not yours! Three weeks in a studio don’t make you a songwriter, a meltdown with a guitar in your hands doesn’t make you a singer! And for sure the little time you’ve spent here does not give you the right to say you know me! You know shit!  
Mel didn’t listen to him. She could hear him, but there was no need to actually let the processed sounds affect her. She knew what he had to say and she knew he would say more than was necessary anyway. Just like she had done.   
\- Stop it! She said after a while. Jon, stop! She raised her voice because he was not giving any sign he had heard her. Goddammit, stop already!  
He stopped talking, baffled by her audacity to shush him. He was far from done saying all the things he wanted to say to her.   
\- I’m serious, Jon! She pleaded. Stop it before any of us will say something it will be impossible to take back. I’d like to believe it’s not already too late for that. I’m…I’m sorry, OK? I went too far…I don’t know why I said it…  
\- The hell you don’t! He muttered through his teeth.  
\- I really don’t! Look, I don’t know what happened this month. Maybe I forgot what this movie needs, maybe you forgot or you didn’t understand it in the first place…  
\- Tell me you didn’t silence me just so you can display your passive-aggressive abilities here! He looked daggers at her.  
\- We can’t continue like this! We are professionals, for God’s sake!  
He couldn’t argue anymore. She had found his vulnerable spot and kicked it full force. He could take a lot of negativity or bad critics, but accusing him of not being professional was his limit.   
\- Whether we want it or not, we are both in this mess and we have to find a solution, not only for the soundtrack, but for the upcoming shootings. You need a break from these songs…  
\- I had a break!   
\- Really? Are you telling me you managed to shut down any thought on these songs while you’ve been away?   
He remained still, only his annoyed breathing giving away the fact she had totally guessed there had not been any break.  
\- I thought so…  
\- So, what now? You’re sending me on a leave?  
\- I’m not your employer, Jon! She half regretted her choice of words and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t fire back at her. He just closed his fingers into fists and fought to keep his mouth shut as he swallowed a sip from his own medicine. What are your plans for the next three days?  
\- What?  
\- Do you have to be in a certain place or do something that can’t be postponed?  
\- The plan was to finish these damn songs!  
\- Forget about them! Come with me to Spain!  
\- You are out of your minds! He ironically laughed. What good can a trip to Spain make?  
Mel wasn’t sure either, his question was indeed valid, but she had the feeling that she had to get him out of there. The part of her that was looking only for vengeance had some thoughts of a kidnap and a murder disguised in an accident. _Not the time for this!_ She scolded herself. What was that “there” she sensed she had to pull him out anyway? The country? The too familiar environment? The studio? Old habits? His own mind? His own mistakes?  
\- Three days without thinking about this fucked up movie and its music. It’s all I’m asking!  
\- I can do that here.  
\- No! No, you can’t!  
\- Then what makes you think I’ll not slip into work at your place too, ‘cause I’m assuming you’re not dragging me to some 5-star resort on some island I can’t name right now?  
\- Because I won’t let you! _And how exactly will you do that, smart-ass?_  
Luckily for her, he didn’t question her. To his and her surprise, he let her take the lead again. Just like he had done on her first morning there when he had moved his ass to the passenger seat.  
\- Fine! I’ll check what is the closest time we can take off.  
\- Like hell you will!  
\- I’m not going commercial!  
\- You’re not going Jovi air tonight either! You’re not the only one who has a plane!  
\- How was I supposed to know that? You left with fucking British Airways from here!  
\- You crash with one and tell me then how delightful is to be alone up there for 8 hours!   
\- Then hire a skillful flight attendant! The words escaped him before he could realize her trauma was pretty much still alive and kicking.  
\- I’ll leave the mile high club to you!   
He didn’t feel the need to apologize to her, but he was not very proud of what he had implied either. Mel spoke again and put an end to his thoughts over what to say.  
\- You have one hour to be ready! Bring Dot and the kids if they want to come, she said and headed to the door.


	10. Chapter 10

\- _I have to go!_ he had said to his wife after he had woken her up. _Mel…_ He hadn’t known what to say to her. It didn’t matter what kind of marriage you had. “Baby, I’m flying in the middle of the night with a hot, young girl” was not something easy to announce, even if there were some other adjectives that described her also. Like “extremely annoying” and “super pissed at him right now”.  
\- _Just go_ …she had muttered.  
\- _You can come too. And the boys…_  
\- _Just go_ , she had smiled at him. _Jacob has a game tomorrow_ .  
\- _Shit…Blame her!_  
- _Call me when you get there. And, honey, you do realize you’re feeling guilty for something that is not going to happen?_  
\- _Huh?_  
- _It took you 30 years to feel remorse before actually doing something and you chose a girl who would first cut a leg than give in to you._  
 _\- I feel remorse because I’m thinking of killing her. Seducing her is not on my to-do list._  
\- _I didn’t say it was._  
\- _Thanks for giving me credit, though,_ he had leaned and kissed her. He had made a mental note to ask Dot why the hell she liked Mel. Why she had liked her from their first meeting. And why the hell she had considered making this movie with her was a good idea.  


The time difference, the fact they had left in the dead of the night and he couldn’t sleep a wink on the plane because their fight was too vivid in his memory had caught up with him as soon as they arrived at Mel’s home. It was somewhere around 3 o’clock in the afternoon when they had gotten there, it was sunny and warm even for a Spanish winter day and the air smelled like oranges, not like upcoming snow. They hadn’t talked much during the flight, the tension between them had been obvious even for the flight attendant, hell, even the pilot had been probably asking himself why the plane was suddenly so heavy. It had been a predominant smooth flight, except for an hour of mild turbulence. At least for him and the crew they had been mild. Mel had frozen in her seat with God knew what apocalyptic scenarios playing in her mind. Tell a joke? Take her hand? Distract her somehow? _Let her be,_ his angered instinct had decided and he had moved to another part of the plane. She was too pissed off to accept help and he was too pissed off to take a rejection. Things had changed to better as they entered Mel’s yard and a shaggy dog had happily jumped on her.  
 _\- Oh, my god, kid! Your dog looks like you! Straight out of the 80s!_  
He hadn’t been sure if she had been about to laugh or curse him, because her kids soon had followed, almost knocking her on the ground. A mix of “mama” and words he could not understand had filled the air and he had decided right there and then that the songs could wait for a couple of days. _It was like yesterday when Steph and Jesse were this little. Weren’t Jacob and Romeo still toddlers?_  
A good meal and a pleasant chat with her husband later and he had been ready to sleep like a baby for 12 hours.  
Yiannis had left on the very next morning to Greece and Mel had apologized because she didn’t really have a plan to entertain him. She could arrange a trip around the area if he was up to some sightseeing.  
 _\- What would you do? If I wasn’t here._  
- _Well, it’s always bike action on the first day of my arrival. I’m the ringleader,_ she had smiled.  
 _\- On your motocross track?_  
 _\- Yeah, wanna join us?_  
 _\- My insurance says no. But I’ll watch you._  
And he had done it. For 10 minutes before the desire had taken over him and he had had to ask Mel for her bike. 17 again, not a care in the world, doing exactly what he liked. Two hours later he was well spent, while her kids looked like they could go on forever.  
\- I need a break! These things make you feel young only in your soul.  
He watched Mel talking to her kids. After all appearances, her daughter was not so pleased with what she was saying, because she threw her helmet on the ground and headed to the house with no words. Alexis, on the other hand, started to run to him and jumped into his arms, smashing his helmet right into his mouth. He bottled up a growl and helped him take it off.  
\- Easy now, space cowboy! He mumbled, his lips almost numb from the coup.  
\- No cowboy _,_ the little boy squeaked. Superman! He reached out his hand like the said superhero.  
Jon had looked at the bundle of semi-wet blonde ringlets, sparkling blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and smile from ear to ear in his arms and started to laugh so hard that he almost dropped him.  
\- Oh, Mel, you are so screwed!  
 _-_ Pitufo, what happened to Ironman?  
\- Superman is better. He can fly for real!  
\- Does he now? Mel questioned her son, but her eyes locked with Jon’s.  
\- I’m not saying anything…he grinned.  
\- You said enough! Mel said through her teeth.  
\- Do you fly?  
\- Only on private jets, Mel mumbled.  
\- Let’s see, he smiled. We should give this to your mommy, he said and gave the boy’s helmet to Mel. It was weird to call her that way after he had called her kid. He threw Alexis into the air, a move that was met by enthusiastic giggles, then laid the boy on his belly on his right shoulder.  
 _-_ Take it easy, grandpa! I don’t want you dead in my yard.  
\- That is a lie, he said with a smirk. Ready?  
With his right arm stretched into the air, the boy screamed at the top of his lungs as Jon started to run towards the house, leaving Mel with some harsh unsaid words on her tongue.  
She could not get over the irony of life. Her son wanted to be Superman, Jon had Superman inked on him and Nick called her kryptonite. At least she had elucidated the mystery of her boy's domestic accident with the tree. He indeed had tried to fly.

Back to the house and he found out why Cristina was so upset. The kids hadn’t quite figured out who he was until Mel had told them he was the man whose song they liked so much. Alexis had forgotten about the bike fun in a heart bit and had been more than willing to get back in the house and switch to some music fun. Cristina had had too much of it while Mel had been gone and was not so keen to strum anything but some engine.  
\- She hates me!  
\- Aaawh…like mother like daughter in another perspective _,_ Mel laughed. I need you to keep an eye on them for one hour. The babysitter is not here yet and I have something to do.  
\- You don’t afford me as a babysitter!  
\- Yeah, I do! But I don’t brag about it!  
\- Let’s play! Alexis interrupted them and took him by his hand, the other being occupied by his little ukulele.  
\- I…I don’t know how to play this one _…_ he said but he let himself dragged by the boy.  
\- So choose something you know, Mel said and pointed to a wall full of different instruments.  
Alexis took a seat on a little chair.  
 _-_ Why does your husband keep them in the kids’ playroom?  
 _-_ Because before it was theirs it was mine and this collection is mine, not his.  
\- What? He had managed to whisper.  
\- They are not valuable or something. They are just different string instruments from around the world. I like to believe the soul of their countries is captured in them. You ok?  
\- Ahm _…_ he nodded, his eyes still glancing from one instrument to another.  
\- I’ll be downstairs if you really need me.  
Cristina pulled his hand to grab his attention. She was carrying a guitar that was almost as big as she was. He smiled and took the guitar from her hands.  
\- Oh yeah, this one is yours for sure.  
\- Because it has nylon strings?  
\- Because it has stars on the neck. Why does it have nylon string, though?  
\- Spanish romances, she said and headed to the door.  
\- What do you want me to play for you? Jon asked Cristina.  
\- Twist y gritos, she said very seriously.  
\- Twist and what?!   
Mel laughed and turned from the door.  
\- Cristina, honey, English. I know you know it.  
\- Twist and shout, she said not very happy she was forced to speak in that language. Quiero bailar!  
\- Y yo quiero some vodka, he mumbled.  
\- I wanna play, not dance!Alexis complained.  
\- Do they even know how a kids’ song sounds?  
\- But do you? Keep it simple for him and make it interesting for her. And if it doesn’t work…be prepared for an hour of Living on a prayer.  
She left him alone with them and went downstairs.  
\- You didn’t teach yours to teach hers _…_ He had looked one more time at the shelve full of instruments before turning his back on it and get a seat near Alexis. Show me what you got!


	11. Chapter 11

It was bike day again. Cristina had wanted some quality time with her mom on their last day home before she would get back to America so this time they had gone to a race circuit. They looked like cute and deformed hamsters with their big helmets and small bikes under them, running lap after lap.   
\- My insurance is really upset, Mel! He had told her but couldn’t resist the temptation of giving a try to her race bike. Pure adrenaline!   
He was now watching her on the track, a loud, fast, black, red and orange shadow, smoothly leaning and sometimes violently braking. He was holding both kids on the retaining wall, each arm surrounding one small waist, big headphones on their ears and both cheering as loud as they could when Mel was passing in front of them. When she stopped at the pit he took them down and went to her.  
\- Mama, my turn! Cristina shouted and let go of his hold.  
\- Pitufo, you know I can’t lean the bike like that with you. You’ll be upset again.  
The guy that took the bike said something that Jon didn’t get, but made Mel laugh.  
\- Que dices, tio? She vaguely smiled and shook her head.  
\- What? Jon asked as he sensed they were talking about him.  
\- He joked about giving you the experience of a passenger.  
\- This bike doesn’t have stirrups. Or a passenger seat for the matter.  
\- You are right. But we have one that does.  
\- Are you brave enough? The guy grinned at him with his thick Spanish accent.  
\- How many guys have fallen for this trick? He joked.  
\- A few.  
\- How many survived?  
\- All! Mel laughed. Really, you don’t have to do it. I have no desire to feel you trembling behind my back.  
\- That is another lie!  
\- I’ll go get the bike, the guy said and disappeared in the paddock.  
\- You really don’t have to do it!  
\- Not fair. Yo quiero contigo en la moto! Cristina cried.  
\- Fine! Come with me to warm up the tiers while Jon ponders between evil and good here.  
The girl didn’t wait for more words, she grabbed her helmet and jumped on the bike.  
\- Child protection has nothing to say?  
Mel shushed him with a gesture before closing her visor and got behind Cristina. She was riding very slowly, but the girl seemed to enjoy it even so.  
\- With that speed I’m comfortable, he joked when Mel stopped.  
\- More! Cristina shouted under her helmet.   
\- Do you want or not? As you can see there’s a queue.  
Jon could tell she was smiling from the sparkling green in her eyes.  
\- Ah…what the hell? Fine! He said and made a mental note that he should see a doctor. It was possible that he had suffered a minor stroke. Or have a tumor. Or some unknown mental disorder.  
\- OK…  
She didn’t look ecstatic that he had agreed to do it, Jon apprehended.  
\- Some rules! No more bars for you so you have to hold on to me. Like I’m dear life preferably. I’ll go slow first and if you are not ok just pat my leg and I will stop. A panic attack is not desirable at any speed. If I move, you move! If I lean, you lean! You don’t try to balance anything. I can’t go like I’m alone so it’s not like we gonna touch the asphalt with our knees, but we have to move like one. If you stumble I will stumble and then the bike will stumble and we don’t want that. Do you understand?  
He nodded but he was not sure what he had agreed to.  
\- Stop talking to me like I’m a virgin! We’ve been through this before.  
\- Jonny boy, you have no idea! That was vanilla sex, this is more like…BDSM.  
\- So the pat on your leg is my safe word?!  
\- I guess. And I’m your dominatrix. Now hop on!  
His eyes darken with an influx of adrenaline and a pinch of desire, before closing his visor and hiding his face from her. He got on the bike and he put his arms around her, but Mel quickly took them and brought them together causing him to get so close to her that it seemed even the air had trouble finding some space between them.  
\- _Move like one_ …Her words rolled in his mind, the smell of leather from her costume invaded his nostrils even through the helmet and something in his lower belly twitched before the bike’s vibrations covered it.  
Mel didn’t want to scare him or show her dominance over him. This was not a game of egos or a contest of who had the biggest balls, metaphorical or not. She maintained a slow and steady pace on the first lap to make him relax a little bit. If he didn’t enjoy it what was the point of doing it? She gradually accelerated and she was surprised with every kilometer gained that he didn’t pat her already. He was not dead, that she knew. She would have lost him by now if he had lost his consciousness for any reason. What was happening was he had taken her word and he was following her. No, it was more than that. Following someone involved a short delay in the mirrored moves. There was no delay in his movements. On the first lap she had acknowledged the lack of any desynchronization, she had realized one more thing. He was the first one who knew how to ride a bike. All the rest had been complete rookies. She sped up and waited for that pat to come. Or at least some delay to occur, but the only occasional hiccups in their duo or trio, if you counted the bike, were caused by the slightly rising of the front tire when she was violently accelerating to make the most out of the longest straight part of the track. There was no danger there so she could force both the bike and Jon a little. In those moments she was feeling him, not really tensing, but tightening around her with his arms and legs, his calves squeezing the bike, but his inner thighs squeezing her. Those were the only moments when their moves didn’t match. In the rest, regardless of the speed, her moves were met by his. Or vice-versa. Mel was not so sure anymore who was leading and who was following.   
_This motherfucker learned the track!_ It hit her. _And he likes it!_ She smiled at the surprise of that revelation. A naughty curiosity emerged in her brain but was instantly washed off because the bike required all her attention. It was not the right time for questions about what his turn-ons were. As a matter of fact, it was never the right time for those questions.  
When she couldn’t’ go any faster without endangering them for no purpose, nor lean the bike without crashing she decided it was time to stop. The lack of acceleration at the start of the straight line made him clenching around her in vain and immediately relaxing almost in disappointment. That relatively unnoticeable sigh gave Mel an idea. She didn’t slow down until almost the finish line when she suddenly braked causing the back wheel to leave the asphalt. She knew what to do, she had done that stunt before, but what she didn’t really take into account was the force Jon’s body would hit hers. He didn’t expect anything like that to happen so at the moment the bike was told to stop, he was literally thrown into her causing her chest and abdomen to stick to the tank and lose the balance she needed which led to the bike leaning a little bit too much. She quickly recovered from the shock, she pushed with all her force into her arms and straighten both her and Jon in the right position, released the brake and let the bike roll for a few meters before bringing it on its two wheels again and stop it. The whole thing didn’t last more than five seconds, but she was sure time unfolded much more different for Jon. She was never surprised when someone was screaming while on a ride with her. Adrenaline, pleasure, excitement, maybe fear, or a mix, she had heard them all. But the sound that enveloped her and that was still lingering in her ears, was something completely new. He hadn’t screamed from the top of his lungs. No! Not even from his inner core. That scream had emerged from a much deeper place and it carried something primal in it. And dark. And painful. She calculated in her mind that she had two options: apologize or play it cool with some joke. She waited for him to get off of the bike and remove his helmet to decide with which one to go. However, she knew she had to think of a third option when he turned and looked at her. He was not just scared, or frightened, or furious. It was a fusion of feelings that made his heart rate able to alarm any medical device attached to him. His eyes were not blue anymore. There was no color in them, just flames, devouring or life-giving Mel could not say. She wanted to say something but she did not know what. He wanted to say something, but he did not have the power. She had made him cross some fucking line again and she had no idea what murky place this time she had sent him to.  
_What the hell have I done?_  
\- Que guay! Her daughter cheered and came running to her, putting an end to that awkward silence. Otra!  
\- Otra? Kardoula mou…Mel fondly smiled. Promise me you won't try that while I’m away.  
The little girl didn’t want to upset her mother but didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep either.   
\- I'll teach you that trick at the right time, ok?  
\- Ok…  
\- Now take Alexis and go get change. We should go if you want to bake some cookies today.  
Her blue eyes sparkled with joy and she turned to Jon who was slowly recovering, his breathing almost normal now, but the flames still gleaming in his eyes.  
\- Galletitas! Con chocolate…she said dreamily and clapped her hands. Do you like them?   
He dropped his eyes on her completely unaware of what she just said.  
\- What? He whispered.  
\- Cookies…Do you like them?  
\- Aham…He was not able to talk much.   
\- Let’s go! She said and slipped her little hand in his.   
Mel looked at them walking away from her, Cristina unusually chatty and friendly and Jon a prisoner of an unknown demon.  
\- My mom makes the best cookies, she heard Cristina saying but did not catch Jon’s response if he had given one.

  
  
\- It was a nice evening, Jon said when the gate closed behind them and they headed back home. Earlier that evening, Mel had asked him if he was willing to go with her to her neighbor’s house. Her unknown to the world flamenco performer neighbor. The kids were finally sleeping, a nanny was in the house and going to her husband’s studio was not an option.   
\- I _t’s jam night. I know it’s not your jam, but we are in Spain and we can pretend we are tourists going to a traditional show_ , she had laughed.  
He had agreed, it was too damn early to go to sleep even if his whole body was protesting and he had discovered he had muscles in places he hadn’t known muscles should exist. Riding race bikes was no easy task! Pedro, or Don Pedro as Mel was calling him, was a tall, over 70 years for sure, warm and with a twisted sense of humor man. He had welcomed Mel with a bear hug and him with a wicked flicker in his eyes.   
\- _Que has hecho, hija? Has cambiado el John?_ He had asked her and Mel had laughed and had answered something he hadn’t caught at all. Pedro had greeted him in English after that and had introduced his friends.  
\- _My Spanish is lousy, but did he just ask you if you changed Johns?_ He had asked her when they were seated in a corner of the room with glasses of wine in their hands.  
\- _Your Spanish is quite good if you caught that._  
\- _What does it mean?_  
\- _Just a joke. He calls my husband John or Johnny when he’s not calling him "hijo"._  
\- _Why is calling him John?_  
\- _Because it’s his name,_ Mel had laughed. _You’d be a Yiannis in Greece!_  
\- _Funny_ …he had mumbled.  
They didn’t speak much after that. He had made himself comfortable and had immersed in that intimate atmosphere. They had asked Mel on many times to join them and she had refused them.  
- _Ignore us! Unless you wanna?_ She had asked him wiggling her eyebrows. He wanted to and yet he had refused. It was clear she was no stranger to those gatherigs and that they were no strangers to her abilities of dancing or playing or both. It was not his jam, but he could appreciate it. And what he could appreciate more was the connection those men had. He didn’t understand much from what they were saying, although sometimes they were switching to a broken English just because he was there, but he didn’t need to. They were laughing, telling old stories they had said on many occasions probably and it didn’t matter because they were theirs and they liked them, they were cheering when one of them was choosing to play some song they liked, they were not backing down from mocking the one who was playing something wrong or from imitating God knew whom. Song after song, and he had realized he felt the need to comment with somebody what he was witnessing. He could have talked to Mel, but he had decided to let her enjoy their little private show. _You would have liked them, man_ …He had imagined himself picking up the phone and telling him that. He had felt a sudden dizziness, for a few seconds everything had faded around him, his enthusiast and full of hope voice whispering “ _You should have been here_ ” on the phone. No answer had come, but the laughter in the room and the good music had kicked back in and had filled that void, making him forget he was aching for one.  
\- Glad you liked it.   
\- They seemed disappointed that you didn’t join them.  
\- I never join them, Mel laughed and he admonished her with one look. Ok, sometimes I do…  
\- So, this is how you’ve learned how to play your Spanish romances?   
\- Hell no! There is no point in trying to play something like that around them, but I can dance a little bit and clap along is not that hard once you’ve learned the songs. These are my only contributions to their meetings.  
\- Are they professional? They are good. I mean, I don’t know much about this style, but they sound fucking awesome. And they seem to enjoy it….like really enjoy it.  
\- Only one was. I don’t know if he still hits the bars these days. They are old friends with a common passion. They are so different one from another, they haven’t always stayed in touch over the years, but after retirement, their love for music brought them back together. Not all of them live in this area so they take turns on the locations. On a few, very special occasions they were all here when the rest of my band had a reunion. Those were some unforgettable gatherings.  
\- Your band? Jon laughed.  
\- How else should I call them? She laughed back. Most of my friends and most of my husband’s friends are related to some degree with the music scene. Some are well-known artists, but the majority are just people who never had the desire to be on a stage, yet never lacked the desire of jamming and having fun. It can get very…eclectic, like you said. All kinds of styles, languages, voices, instruments, and levels of playing them…Music at its best…for me, at least. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a filled up stadium that screams and chants it’s a pretty cool experience, and I do enjoy that also, but the intimacy of small groups is special. Moreover when the group is made out of friends. That damn 30 seconds video was the result of such a night.  
\- You know what I’ve never got? Why it’s only 30 seconds…  
\- From what I’ve been told, Mel started as if she didn’t really believe in that explanation she had been given and she was about to give, everybody was too bewildered. No one was able to do anything but listen…No one, except for the traitor my best friend proved to be. She started recording when she realized how affected the rest were. She was intending to use that against me the next time I would say I can’t sing.   
\- She did! You can’t say she didn’t keep her word, Jon laughed.  
\- Yeah…Listen, about tomorrow, Mel started, but Jon shushed her immediately.  
\- The three days are not over yet, he explained himself.  
\- Oh…ok…she said and silence fell between them.  
He didn’t know what to do now more than he had known when they had left his studio. The songs were good, there was no question about it. But were they in their best form? It occurred to him that Mel would not fight him just for the sake of it just so she could triumphally affirm that she had put him to his place. If she was displeased with the outcome, it was because she genuinely wanted something else from those songs. Once he had been able to leave his anger aside for a moment, he realized he liked the passion she had put in that dispute. It was honest. Maybe it was impossible to forget how it was to have a guitarist in the band, but someone to oppose you, driven only by the belief things could be better, well, that was kind of a rarity these days.   
\- I’ll do it! Jon said out of nowhere after a while.  
\- Huh? Mel turned to face him because he had stopped in the middle of the road.  
\- You are right. About the songs…  
\- Oh…Mel noticed that even if his eyes were staring at her he wasn’t looking at her, nor in the distance. It was like he wasn’t even speaking to her, but more to himself. Or to…She couldn’t finish her thought, because Jon spoke again and this time his attention was on her.  
\- I’ve got it all wrong with Ava’s song, but I’m not wrong when I say it needs a proper version.   
\- I know…  
\- You are the one who imagined it as a dialogue and you are the one who denied this natural evolution for it.  
\- I know, Mel agreed again.  
\- This song is a duo and you’ll have to sing again, he said and waited for a fightback response that didn’t come.  
\- I know that too.  
\- Wait…you agree?  
\- Aham, Mel nodded.   
\- You haven’t stopped either, Jon said with an appreciative smirk on his face.  
\- From work, you mean?  
\- Yeah! An obvious "doh” in his tone.  
\- Of course not. But I sent it in my subconscious, the place where all brilliant ideas come from, she grinned. So… you’ll have to sing again too. This song needs that 9 crimes voice you’ve shown me you have, ok?  
\- That is the easiest part of all, Jon laughed. Blood on my guitar concerns me more. No idea what the hell you want from it.  
\- So maybe it’s not the time to tell you I’m not a huge fan of our rockfish anthem either, Mel gave him a guilty smile.  
\- Jesus, kid! And you said my hunch about you not being so glad you’re stuck with me for this movie was wrong.  
\- What? Mel frowned at him. I said I’m not a fan of how the song came out, not that I’m not yours!  
After a moment of confusion, he started to laugh.  
\- Good one! He managed to say between giggles.   
\- Interesting, Mel said under her breath. _How the hell did he end up believing I don’t give a damn about him?_ Do you know why I took the bike every goddam morning for a ride? She fixed her eyes on him and he had to stop laughing.  
\- Huh? Uhm…Because you like it?  
\- Besides the obvious.  
\- No.  
\- Because, just like I’ve told you already, when I ride a bike my mind gets some well-deserved moments of silence. But it didn’t work this time. Every fucking morning I woke up with “You give love a bad name” in my mind. Every fucking morning, I’m not lying! Do you know how many moments of silence I had? One minute. In one minute I was out on the streets and it was like I was on a bloody tour or something.   
\- And what was it playing in your mind when you were going out the gate? Runaway? He started to laugh again even harder than before.  
\- Pretty much. Sometimes was "Wild is the wind".  
\- That is just…hmm…he couldn’t find his words and even if he had done it he would not have been able to say a thing. He was laughing in tears now.  
\- And when I came back…well…it was usually between “Dry County” and “Who says you can’t go home” to which I always answered “You, motherfucker! You!” Would you stop laughing so hard, it’s not that funny!  
He bent and put his hands above his knees then looked up at her.   
_Who’s the kid now?_ Mel rhetorically asked herself. She felt the strange desire to run her fingertips over his eyebrows and maybe, just maybe, ruffle a little his hair that looked so soft and blond in the warm light of the lampposts. Whatever shield he usually had around him was not there now. Big blue eyes were looking at her with a joyful, lively, yet somehow innocent flicker. That was for sure a new shade of blue, one she had never seen, but knew a long time ago was not that strange to him.  
\- In 2011 I planned the whole month of July with your concert in Bucharest in my mind and you are laughing your ass off here over the idea I could be your fan, she said with a fabricated disappointment in her tone.  
\- You what? He said and slowly got up. You were there?  
\- You were for the first time in the town of my childhood. Of course I was there. We gathered from all around the world to see you. We could have attended any other venues over the years, but we didn’t. It was like we kept ourselves to be together for a special occasion. And that was a very special one…All of us there…You could say home…  
\- That was a pretty damn good concert, he said dreamily.   
\- Do you really remember it?  
\- Can’t forget something like that. It was hot as hell.  
\- Oh, yeah, it was. Bucharest summers, a delight! Mel giggled.  
_All of us, there…_ It wasn’t only the fact that Mel and her friends and family had been all together. The band had been complete too on that day. If it had been a couple of weeks earlier it wouldn’t have been so. The crowd had screamed and sung from the very start to the very end with them, loud and warm and so damn happy to be there, despite scorching temperatures. _All of us, there…_ No one having the tiniest desire for that concert to end, nor the public, nor them. _All of us, there…_ ”Happy birthday, Richie” written on banners and shouted from the top of everybody’s lungs… _Yeah…it had been a pretty good concert…_  
\- I didn’t ask how your last shows were, Mel continued.   
\- Eh, he waved his right arm through the air like he wanted to get rid of something. Better than I expected, worse than I wanted, tho... Before he turned his face away from her, Mel noticed that the lively spark started to fade away from his eyes.  
\- Why are you still doing this? She asked him more out of concern than curiosity. Do you still have some fun out there on stage?  
\- It was never about having fun on stage.  
\- Bullshit! I’m not taking you an interview so you can spare me from standard responses, ok?   
\- It’s a ma…  
\- Machine, I know! Mel grabbed at him. Machines don’t have feelings, Jon! But those who are building them or driving them or just enjoying the ride, they do have! So, why are you doing this?   
Again she was not scolding him and it was not curiosity behind that question. More than anything, it was worry. Jon swallowed to get rid of the lump in his throat. _What answer was he supposed to give when there was none?_  
\- Because I don’t know what else I could do, he said after a moment. He held her gaze, daring her to call his bluff again. There was a double meaning there, one that was for the very first time said out loud. Of course he knew what else to do…lay himself under a palm tree with a bottle of cold wine next to him for the rest of his life was a good option, for example. He expected Mel to say something like that, “what are you talking about, idiot? There’s plenty of other things you can do and you named them already on many occasions”, but she remained quiet. She had opted for the second meaning of those words, one that he wasn’t sure where was heading and what it really meant. It was something beyond him that made him carry on with that circus and it had nothing to do with money, or fame, public pressure, or even with the fact that it was hard to let go of the one thing you’ve done your whole life. _Fun…It had stopped being fun a long time ago._  
\- Be careful, she barely cracked a smile, I’ve heard you are not a big fan of fat Elvis. That smile was all fake, Jon knew that, it was just an attempt to turn the atmosphere a little brighter. Why had she chosen to come back to the first meaning? What had she seen on the second one that had made her say more or less what he had expected from her? _Maybe you should ask her. You should ask her what’s there where you’re too coward to go…_  
\- I’m not fat yet, he accepted her u-turn. Is there a rule for your knowledge about my band or me? I always assume you know things that you don’t and you know the ones I would have bet you didn’t.  
\- When I’ll figure it out, you’ll be the first one to be informed. I have no idea why I know this Elvis shit thing. You’ve said it, right?  
\- Yeap, he smiled and started to walk. They had enough chatting in the middle of the road.  
Mel turned on her heels and followed him. She had brought him in the exact place she had wanted and she had no idea how she had managed to do it. There must have been a connection between those many shades of blue she had seen in his eyes on the last couple of days and his decision to listen to her, but what that connection was, she was not sure. However, she was sure of what his answer was hiding. It didn’t matter who was up there with him on the stage and it didn’t really matter what the hell was happening, if he was having a good time, or the rest of the band was having a good time, or even the public. On his right, there was an empty spot that could not be filled even by a fucking dozen guitarists. There was no more “Richie!” followed by a guitar solo, there were no more fist bumps, no more shared looks that spoke a thousand words. _I don’t know what else I could do…_ So he was waiting. He could lie the fans, he could lie the reporters, he could lie the rest of the band, he could lie to himself too, he could write ten albums about how things were ok, different, yet ok, but that not could change the reality. Nothing could change the fact that a part of him was determined to wait till the end of days if that was what it took for that spot to be filled again. The Apocalypse might have come and he’d still be there, a pile of bones and burnt hopes waiting for another kind of end to happen.  
\- Is that what scared you?  
\- Huh? Mel was not sure if he had said something before that question.  
\- That…I will not be able to …I don’t know…sound good?  
\- Would you stop already with this crazy idea that I didn’t want you to play Nathan? Or to write the soundtrack? Really, it doesn’t suit you to act all needy for someone’s appreciation.  
\- I’m not needy! He frowned at her. I’m just…curious… _of why you are so savage sometimes_ , he continued to himself.  
\- In case you forgot, what is scared me was that I had to sing. It never crossed my mind you would not step up to the expectations. Does it…does it scare you? Mel dared to ask.  
\- What? Sing in the studio? Neah…It annoys me sometimes, but nothing to be scared about. And I’m not scared of your Oscar either, just so you know.  
Mel let out a little laugh.  
\- I wasn’t thinking you were.   
\- Good, he said and put his arm around her neck. He felt her involuntary tense for a second before she accepted his touch. Why the hell do you smell like bubble gum or cotton candy or…? He said and sniffed the air around her arranged curls.   
\- I’ve bathed the kids. I don’t wash them with Channel whatever your favorite number is! She said and put her left arm around his waist. Unlike her little boy, she was not a touchy person. At all! But at that particular moment, she found him to be very…approachable? Huggable? _Absolutely fucking abusable?_ A little naughty voice in her head whispered and something inside her twitched in interest at the image of him from an old footage from a concert.   
\- _The fuck is wrong with you, woman?_  
\- _Come on, you may play the dead and cold card, but you can’t fool me! I know you want to fuck his brains out!_  
\- _My twenty-year-old version wanted to do that to his thirty-something version! Those versions have never been alive at the same time!_  
She sent to the background of her brain her inner voices’ argue about who wanted to do what to whom and asked him:   
\- So, are we good?  
\- Yeah…he said and raised his left fist to seal their pact.  
\- Leave that for when we are done.  
He opened his hand mimicking an explosion and smiled. Someday he would have to tell her that she incorrectly identified herself with “Bad Name”. That was not her song. Those were not the lyrics someone who had had to deal with her would come up with. Those from “If I was your mother” on the other hand fitted her like a glove. Someday he would tell her that, but not today.   
\- So on what time zone did the three days need another five minutes to end? She asked him as she opened the gate.  
\- I’ve never said I’m good at Math…Easy, smelly mop! He said to Mel’s too enthusiastic dog, who was all over them. He tried to get rid of him with his free hand, but gave up and used his both hands to pat the shaggy animal.  
\- Tumma, you are a lousy guard dog!  
\- Neah…He will suffocate the thieves with his affection…or with his need for affection, Jon laughed, continuing to rub the dog’s belly.


	12. Chapter 12

The shootings were over and promotion time had started. Due to their busy schedules, they had managed to agree only on two shows on which they could be together. One in America and one in Europe. The rest had been split between them based on availability and location. They were now in London, it was only 8 p.m., but being deprived of sleep, of a good sleep, made her feel like it was 5 in the morning after a crazy night. The only crazy things were the flights, two extremely bumpy rides in less than 24 hours were just too much. The numbers of the floors were turning on and off as the elevator approached, but her mind kept seeing a countdown to disaster. There is no floor when the door opens and she steps in dark void, the lights go out and she remains stranded between floors with no willpower to cry for help or with no air, the elevator goes down instead of up, faster and faster and faster... Bang! _Damn, I'm tired!_ She slightly shook her head in an attempt to chase away those visions. _Just take the stairs, you can't have another panic attack near him. Not even an introvert one like you just had._  
\- You know what? I'm going on foot, need to put my blood to run a little bit.  
What she needed to do was to slow the blood down before her heart would explode, because her pulse had dangerously increased with every lit number on the elevator. She turned on her heels and off she went to the stairs as the doors opened with a ding.  
Jon looked at the empty elevator and back at her.  
_What the heck was that?_  
\- Mel, wait! He went after her, almost run, to surpass her and position himself in front of her.  
\- You all right?  
\- Yeah, yeah, sure! Too much standing, I need to move. My feet are itching.  
That could have been an explanation. A lot of people would have bought it. Normal people, people without irrational fears.  
\- Oh my God, kid! You are afraid of elevators! He was amused as much as he was shocked.  
\- Congratulations! You found my Achilles’ heel. She tried to sound sarcastic, but all he could hear was tiredness and fear.  
\- What? No argument?  
\- Take the damn elevator and go get the table. I'll be there in 5 minutes.  
\- Mel, he said and put his hands on her shoulders, I'm not trying to shovel you in the elevator. I actually have a better idea than dinner for two at the restaurant.  
Mel didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow with an evident sarcastic line hanging in her mind.  
\- Close enough, Jon approved that “Table for two on a TV tray” that had silently been invoked. Room service. You get to pick the room. He smiled and winked at her.  
Again, Mel remained quiet. She looked at him like he was a lunatic.  
\- We are both tired and we both need food and none of us is in the mood for people. I'm not trying to seduce you...he said after a short pause.  
\- What the fuck, Jon? Mel snorted.  
\- Ah, good. This is the reaction I was looking for. You're OK!  
The night would be awful, no good rest again. And he was right, she was hungry. So, why not postpone an unpleasant time alone in her room hoping she would get Yiannis on the phone to lull her to sleep? Her husband was the only true antidote for panic episodes and nightmares after turbulent flights. Sometimes, it worked even if he was not present. All he had to do was to keep talking in his soothing voice until she fell asleep. It was more efficient in the times she didn’t understand Greek and his voice was the best lullaby ever, a protective shield between grim thoughts and her mind. Maybe she had been lucky and her flights had not been so bad lately, or maybe she had finally developed some immunity to shaky airplanes, she did not know, but in the last years, those phone calls become rarer and rarer. Tonight, tho, she needed one. And some kind of distraction until bedtime.  
\- Yours it is.  
Jon nodded and let her shoulders free.  
\- So... Why elevators? He asked as they started walking towards his room.  
\- We don’t get to choose our irrational fears, don’t we?  
\- I guess not.  
\- I never liked them. Elevators in communist buildings are horrible. Normal, decent elevators were OK for a while, but you know, at some point, being in one became the closest thing to be in an airplane. A crashing airplane. I truly hate irrational fears that keep me from functioning like a normal being, so I did my best to overcome this childhood-adolescence trauma. _My best without actually going to a fucking doctor!_ Nowadays when I'm tired I just can't do it. My last flights don't help either. Bumpy cannot describe them accurately, riders on the storm was written on my last plane, and, irrational or not, I can’t get any sleep after such rides. So, no more elevators for me tonight. I made the mistake to not take the stairs earlier.  
He opened the door and invited her to enter first. Mel took a step into the room and suddenly stopped.  
\- Jon, she said without turning, don't tell me you're afraid too! _How the hell had he been able to guess so quickly what her problem was?_  
He started to laugh, amused by Mel’s slightly exasperated tone. He closed the door behind him and bypassed her.  
\- I’ll race you, he said.  
\- Huh?  
\- That’s what I used to say when elevators were a big “no-no” for me.  
\- Jeez, you’ve transformed a phobia into a competition. It’s so…you! Mel said while she plunged on the sofa.  
\- It had to be something realistic, right?  
\- And people bought it?  
\- The ones that mattered no.  
\- How did you end up with this fear? You didn’t have communist buildings to scare the shit out of you when you were little.  
\- Stress, depression, lack of sleep, exhaustion, all of the above and then some more. It was years ago. Decades. It started before the “a bike saved my life”.  
\- Did the bike make it better?  
\- I wish! Jon snorted. Judging by Mel’s pensive look, the bike was useless for that matter in her case too. It took me years. And sometimes, just like yours, it kicks in.  
\- So if we had entered that elevator and for some kind of reason it would have stopped between floors…What would have happened? Besides making the news.  
Jon seemed to think for a second. He could picture himself and Mel, both flushed, panting heavily, sweaty, with unbuttoned shirts because who the hell can breathe with clothes on when is fucking stuck in an elevator that gets smaller and smaller, laid on the floor in some weird positions, being met by curious and outraged eyes when the doors finally opened. It would have been like in a cheap comedy. Absolutely nightmare while being stuck, but totally cheap comedy afterward.  
\- You know what? Let’s take the stairs tomorrow. Just in case! He smiled.  
\- Sure, and we can say this is how we keep ourselves in shape, Mel laughed. Stair running from the 20th floor!  
\- Rock stars’ extravaganza!  
\- Amish rock stars maybe! Mel snorted and they both burst into laughter. Has the tour started? She asked him when they stopped laughing. She turned on one side and closed her eyes.  
\- Aham. It’s going great!  
\- Glad to hear that, she whispered, barely cracking a smile. He sounded almost enthusiastic and that was a big change from his last tour. She supposed that was a good sign.  
\- Hey, don’t fall asleep! What do you wanna eat?  
\- I’m not sleeping. Just resting my eyes, she mumbled. Some bloody filet mignon, please.  
\- Dracula’s daughter, Jon giggled. Anything else?  
\- Whatever side dish they have.  
She let him place their order and then asked him.  
\- So, any more interesting interviews? Or everything is going smoothly?  
\- Nothing worth mentioning, I think. Why? Do you have something to tell me? He asked her partially amused, partially afraid by what questions those reporters could possibly come up with. Questions that were never regarding their work.  
She might have had something to tell him. Ask him, actually. Lost between other messages in her phone, one DM in particular got her intrigued and incensed at the same time. And a little bit shocked because it came from the most implausible person she knew. Tommy Lee. She hasn’t seen the man in seventeen years and, out of sudden, he contacted her. _Hey, Mel. Still hanging out with guys only seem milk-and-cookies?_ She had stared speechless at her phone when she got the message, bewildered not by the message itself, but by the sender. _What the fuck?_ Then she had laughed. Milk-and-cookies was a funny description for a clean, momma-approved boy band member. Which Nick looked like, indeed, and was not. True. Not at the time he used to hang out with Tommy and out-party professional heavy revelers, at least. Then she had gotten infuriated. How did he dare to imply she was having an affair? For a few minutes, she had pondered between sending back an honest “Fuck you!” or a posh “Pardon?”. In the end, she hadn’t sent anything. Ignorance was the best answer. And, if she were to think about it, he didn’t imply anything. She had been hanging out with Jon. Professionally. At that point, she had gotten intrigued. What kind of sordid detail did Tommy know about Jon? Vodka-and-white-lines he was not for sure. _More like vodka-and-bed-of-roses._ She had almost suffocated from laughing by herself and, for a short time, she had forgotten she was about to embark on a plane that had the same itinerary with a storm. Even now she found it very hard to help herself from foolishly giggling. She could totally imagine Jon’s face and attitude after reading that message. _How the hell do you know Tommy Lee?_ Concern mingled with intrigue. _Is this a fucked up way of saying we are having an affair?_ Outrage. _Wait! Who seems milk-and-cookies? I seem milk-and-cookies?! That motherfucker!!!…_.She did not know a better word than outrage, but if she had known one, its definition would have been Jon’s look when he had realized he had been reduced to a boy band member. She was sure that adjective would start a discussion that would not give her the answer she was looking for. Milk-and-cookies was not important. How he truly was underneath that counted. Or, in this case, how Tommy believed he was. And that made Mel decide to not ask Jon anything. She did not care what Tommy thought. It was just a joke, after all. Considering what she had told him last time they saw each other, he could have said something sharper. Like “You’ve got the guitarist wrong”. That had the potential of causing a burn. And if really wanted to cause some trouble, he would have not opted for a DM.  
\- I was forced to play a weird game to decide if I like more the Backstreet Boys or Bon Jovi.  
\- Wow. What was the result? He laughed.  
\- It would have been different with the right songs. And harder.  
\- So I lost.  
He didn’t seem so amused anymore.  
\- It was a close game.  
Jon shushed her with a theatrical hand gesture.  
\- It should have been a tie, seriously.  
\- I lost to a boy band!  
\- You lost to my boy band, she giggled. Anyways, the pairing was pretty bizarre. Like, what the hell “Larger than life” and “It’s my life” have in common? Except for the word life…And Max Martin…And a talk box…  
\- You got your answer, Jon snorted.  
\- Your Sunday Morning won to their Sunday Afternoon, she tried to reconcile him.  
\- What Sunday Afternoon?  
\- That was the question I wanted to ask too, Mel laughed. I can’t remember the name of the song. Unexpected, unsuspected, un-something Sunday Afternoon. I literally didn’t know what song they were asking about. I even took into account they were messing with me.  
\- Great! So a lousy song won over an unheard one. Tell me more. It’s getting better and better! he falsely encouraged her.  
\- You know damn well it’s not a lousy song. Just so you know, if they had chosen only this one from you and they had kept all the rest from them, you would have won five to nothing.  
\- Huh! Very bad selection indeed.  
He failed to sound as sarcastic as he wanted and had to fight to stop a smile from spreading all over his face. That would have been a crushing victory and that gave him a nice feeling. Even if it was a stupid game. Even if it was a song he had trouble admitting it was a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who didn't read the first part, here is some explanation for Tommy's meteoric appearance. In an attempt to cheer Mel up after the accident, Nick and Brian throw a huge party for her. Tommy is a guest, because at that time he and Nick were buddies. (Nothing invented here, reality beats fiction). Annoyed by Nick's persistence and exasperated by Tommy's moves on her, she says "Sorry guys, I’m more a guitar girl than a drums one…" and walks out of their sight. The punchline was intended for Nick (who played drums), but, on a weird extension, could apply to Tommy too.


	13. Chapter 13

After Jon had stopped acting hurt by a meaningless game he had lost, they had managed to have a nice dinner in a joyful atmosphere.  
\- Are we shooting a video and I was not announced?  
Mel was seated on the window seat with her knees pulled to her chest. Before she turned to him and reached for the glass of wine he had poured for her, Jon had the acute feeling he was going to miss her. One more interview together and then they would see each other rarer and rarer, maybe some events, some award shows, and, at one point a year would pass without even heard from each other. It was weird, he had never had that feeling at the end of a project. But again, he had never had that kind of relationship with anyone he had ever worked in the film area.   
\- You have no fucking idea what video I’m talking about! He shook his head in disappointment.  
\- In my defense, I know there’s one. Can’t really put my finger on it, tho.  
She came back to looking out the window at the flickering lights. Below them, the city was a frenetic conglomeration of cars and people, soaked by a rain that did not seem British at all. It looked more like a biblical penance.  
\- Nice summer, Jon said and took a seat at the other end of the window seat, one leg folded under him.  
\- I think I did a huge mistake making this movie, Mel said out of nowhere taking Jon by surprise.  
Those were some unexpected words from someone who actually believed in that twisted story.   
\- Why? He asked and took a sip of wine. I mean, we obviously ruined our marriages according to... almost everyone, but other than that, we are great.   
That was supposed to be a joke, but Mel was not having it and that was a first because she was always amused by the rumors. By most of them at least.  
\- Because you don't know why I wanted to make this movie.   
Something in Mel's voice was off. He knew her enough by now to tell when something indeed troubled was occupying her mind.  
\- You told me your reasons on the first day at my studio, he tried to be the voice of reason. She was making herself culpable of a possible terrible thing and he could not understand why.   
\- No, I didn't. I didn't quite tell the truth. The whole truth anyway.  
The inkling her motives were more than her love for twisted stories had sparked in him when he had assisted a conversation between Mel and Martin over some scene. They could not agree on what kind of reaction Ava should have at some point and Mel came with a line-up of arguments Martin could not combat. It was like she knew for sure what someone would do in that messed up situation and that triggered a faint question mark in Jon’s mind. She had never sounded that sure when they used to turn the movie up-side-down in a chase for the right lyrics. _She’s in her element here, on your studio she wasn’t._ That was his answer to Mel’s changed attitude. It wasn’t a big deal, _right_?   
\- I'm sorry for some of the things you’ll hear. But it is what it is.   
\- Would you just tell me already? He laughed. You are allowed to act like this only when it comes to singing, otherwise I don't recognize you. Jon vaguely wondered if she could possibly tell him another thing that would make some memory of his come to surface. _Coincidences, man! Just coincidences!_  
Mel smiled and took her sweet time with the first sip of wine. Like she was not sure if it was the right or the wise thing to start her confession.  
\- You asked me if I was never afraid that I could find myself in Ava's position.  
_Wow! That…That was some start!_  
\- I'm not strictly Ava. I’m the whole story and then some.  
\- What do you mean by that?   
\- I know you have some idea of my past, well, you actually know a lot of shit, but there’s an order that counts, so here we go.   
Jon reached for a nearby chair and drew it closer then leaned against the window and put his legs on the chair. His right leg had already started to feel numb and he hadn’t stayed in that position for more than five minutes. Mel let him finish his mise en place then started to talk.   
\- I didn't know I was adopted until I was almost 13. At 12 my life was pretty normal. Shitty family, but normal. Until the day one of the guys that were hanging on my walls appeared at my house. And it was the right guy, but it was the worst pick of them all. Because my family's history was more interesting than I knew and this prince charming of mine was my cousin. Distant, but cousin.   
\- Could have been worse.   
\- Yeah, well, I'm not done.   
\- Oh...  
\- I've always considered myself a lousy singer, she laughed. But at that time I didn’t care that much. I mean I cared but I was also used to make a fool of myself at music classes. They were fucking mandatory! So, one evening, due to some weather conditions and bad parenting, me and a few siblings and cousins of mine along with two of his bandmates were standing in dark in a room trying to kill the time. I don't recall why I was forced to sing something, I probably lost at some game, but I had to, so I picked a song no one knew. Because you can't really tell how bad it is if you don't know how it goes. Smart move, I thought.   
Jon could not help himself from giggling.   
\- It was not even a real song. It was something I carried with me since forever. Lyrics more or less invented and reinvented over the years. In English at that time, because I was learning it and hey, it was cool, Romanian was so out of date.   
\- Writing lyrics since forever, ha? Jon friendly mocked her.  
\- Not really, she smiled not bothered by the fact he was trying to be funny when she was serious. For some reason, it was written in me. Anyways, long story short, it turned out to be the song Brian, my cousin at that time, was singing to his baby sister in the times he had a sister. Because she was missing for years.   
\- That's why you had such a hard time singing that song? Because it was so damn similar? Jon frowned at her. _That was just so…so…Ava._  
\- That’s why I had such a hard time filming it. I didn’t expect to react the way I did. I thought I had all my steps correctly calculated. I was wrong. I knew from the start I’d have a hard time with that scene, but I never imagined there would be more than my fear of singing. I had one more demon to fight and I didn’t even know.  
\- You won!  
\- Hmmm, Mel avoided a categorical verdict. Anyway, that poor choice of mine led to some unexpected development. It turned out that the world is a tiny, tiny place when fate is in the mood for some bad jokes. So, I was taken or sent, it depends on who you ask, to America, to my real family. Brian's family. My prince charming was my brother. He actually did save me from a fucked up family, I have to give him some credit for that. So I forgot that I was fangirling over him, the poster boy was anyway different from reality.   
\- You could have told me, you know? I would have…  
\- There’s nothing you could have done. If you had known, nothing would have been the same. You would have assumed that is the explanation for my inability, and it’s not, and you wouldn’t have been able to push me and annoy me like hell, to be honest. Anyway, that’s why I was so damn picky about Ava’s song. Because I knew how a song can travel. And I knew how a song that seems absolutely innocent can turn into a wrecking ball waiting for the right moment to destroy your whole life.  
\- But how come you knew it? You are not his sister after all.  
\- That has to do with the fucked up story I thought was covered by the media.   
\- I didn’t watch it that close. I caught only the part where you were not siblings.  
\- Not that you had known it by that time that we were brothers.  
\- Not really, Jon admitted.   
\- Well, you don’t need to know more than the fact Brian’s sister and I shared the same place for some time. Before I was adopted and before…Mel stopped. I knew the song from her. I have no explanation why a toddler can get stuck with something like that, but she did and then I did. Anyway…I went to America. I started dating his best friend, Nick. The heartthrob of the band…  
\- You were a child. How old were you? 14?!  
\- Talking like a dad, much? I said I started a relationship, not that I threw myself in his bed. Jeez! It was a normal teenager relationship, well as normal as it can be when for the guy, girls over the world would do anything, but the girl back home would not, Mel laughed. Half of this picture must sound familiar to you.   
\- Maybe! It was a long, long, long time ago.   
\- Aren't you modest? Mel teased.   
\- Mel, I have to come clean about this. I just can’t picture you being a boy band fan. I just can’t. Even if I lost to them.  
\- You can’t picture me anything, she laughed.   
\- Maybe because when I asked you what music you like there was nothing known to mankind.  
\- Beethoven is well known...I may be subjective, but they are not an ordinary boy band, I can tell you that. Twenty-seven years of activity, sold-out tours in the present, that must mean something. And you can name at least three members which is three more than you could do before you met me and you haven’t burst into flames yet, she could not help teasing him a little.  
Jon stuck his tongue out at her and Mel rolled her eyes, not exactly exasperated by his childish reaction.  
\- But, yeah, I do get what you are saying, she smiled forbearingly. Anyway, life went on. Brian got married, he had a child. I adore that kid. He looked a little bit like Alexis when he was little. I became a model. I started traveling the world while they were traveling the world. Life was OK, a very weird dynamic, but OK. I was caught in the middle of a phenomenon and I didn’t realize. Girls my age were sleeping outside the buildings they were about to perform days prior to the event and I was absolutely oblivious. It was like everything that was happening was settled in a world far away from me. I was not unhappy and I was not happy either. And then, one day, truth knocked me down and my bubble exploded. Brian was not my brother. His sister was a long time dead. I didn't believe it. I thought my former shitty family just tried to mess with me. They weren't. I was heading to confront Brian. They were back home from a long tour, I was about to get back from some shooting. I didn't have a plan. And even if I had had one, fate was in the mood for some bad jokes again. And my plane crashed.   
Jon swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. She always mentioned that accident like it was a common car crash, not a damn plane hitting the ground too early and too unexpected. Even when he had asked her how it had happened, she had maintained an uninvolved tone. _I don’t remember a thing. I don’t know how I got out before the fire expanded. I don’t know how I got to the hospital. And I don’t remember much from the time spent there either._ But what followed, that she remembered despite her constant efforts to forget.  
\- Two weeks of coma. I always believed my brain just shut down because it couldn't deal with reality. Some months of recovery. I honestly don't know what motivated me. At that time we were all living in the same outrageous big house and that was some huge fucking mistake from us. After a damn tour, they didn’t need to see each other anymore. You know how it is. You don’t have to hate the persons next to you to be fed up with them. But they all stayed. For me. I didn't say anything to Brian. I knew he would lie to me, so I just watched. I wanted to understand from his behavior what the fuck he was thinking. Why he never mentioned that his sister was a sick child and there was a possibility of her being not only disappeared but dead? I got them worried. They were always thinking I might do some irreversible crazy shit. I never thought about it, not then at least, but that was their feeling. It didn't help some of them were having their demons too. It was chaos, let's just put it this way. My so-called brother and my boyfriend were overprotective. I can't blame them, but each had a different vision of what I should be protected from. They used to be inseparable, Frick and Frack, and now they were not like brothers anymore. And it was just the beginning. The thought that maybe I got it all wrong, that maybe I misunderstood what my stepfather had told me, that maybe it was just a fucking dream, an idea planted in my mind while I was in coma slowly took over me. I was delusional. I wrapped myself in a bubble again. It took a stranger to come to my house to wake me. It took a stranger to say “I wouldn't have guessed Brian is your brother” to realize I had a problem. I couldn't understand Brian, but I could understand myself. The poster boy had never left me. It was different from reality, but who says you can't fall for both?   
_The fuck?!_ Jon outburst only mentally. What was he supposed to say? To think? He did not see that one coming. _She had never played Ava. She was Ava!_  
\- So I took heart for it and I talked to him. I was furious, I was hurt and I was so in love with him. I didn't give him the chance to explain me anything. It was more like a monologue. You lied, I know, I hate you, you are an idiot, you ruined everything. And I kissed him. A punishment kiss I thought it would be. And it was, but I didn't know what kind of a Pandora’s box it would open. Because it was nothing wrong in that kiss. Nothing! And at that moment I understood. Brian was never capable to love me as a sister, he never really saw me as a sister either. He offered me a home, a family, his best friend as a boyfriend because he genuinely thought he was not the right guy for me. And he was wrong. Well, wrong at that time at least. I left the next day without a word. No goodbyes. No nothing. Brian at least knew what happened, but Nick…Nick never knew what hit him. Nor the rest. It was like America had been erased from this world for me.   
Jon clenched his fist until no blood was left in his fingers. Her words kept repeating in his mind throwing him in the past. He looked at her trying not to project over her his feelings. Mel just shrugged.  
\- Yeah, what can I say? It was the best thing for me, but the wounds I provoked with that simple act took years to heal. I’m still amazed they forgave me and they consider me a friend, family nowadays. Please don’t think I tell you this with a hidden reason. I’m not. It’s just my story and…  
\- I’m not, he managed to whisper. _So she is the kind that leaves without goodbyes, after all._  
\- After two years or so I went back to America, to that house. It was his son's birthday. Post-traumatic stress and depression are a great combo for a hardcore living, you know? And on top of that, I realized I can’t get Brian out of my mind, of my soul, of my …everything. I hurt some good people in that process of realization too. After the party, I found him in his office. He was strumming a guitar and he was humming my song. Our song. And I gave in. I didn’t want to. As you know by now me and weakness moments don’t get really well.  
Jon almost smiled.  
\- But I was so low, there was nothing left for me to do. I literally threw my self on my knees in front of him, begging to do something. I begged for his love and I don’t beg!  
\- You begged me to find someone else to sing.  
It was time for a joke or else he would lose his mind. To his relief, Mel nearly laughed.  
\- And now you know how serious I was. But Brian chose to be an idiot again. I can’t find him excuses anymore. He told me that he learned how to love me as a sister and that I should do the same with him. At that point, no one from America knew about the non-related issue. I left again. It was time to do something with my life, I left Romania, where my former uncle was more than nice to shelter me for so long and I accepted Martin’s proposal. You know how that went. What sounded like salvation turned into a nightmare. I was in deep shit and this time I was alone in a new country, with the press on my tail, lying to those few people I kept talking to that I was OK. My aftermath of a lowdown was another lowdown. That’s how good I am at these things!  
_Aftermath of a lowdown?_ That was some interesting choice of words…If that was meant to be some reference, Jon couldn’t tell because Mel kept going like nothing out of place had been said. _At least his albums she can name._  
\- After a while, I managed to do good professionally, personally...Let’s just say I was lucky because alcohol didn’t help me. I could control my demons sober, one bottle of vodka would have got my ass in the first plane to America. That was really my salvation. Drugs were out of the question, hell, if your mind distorts reality without external help what would she do when you give her a hand? Put the mother of dragons to sleep? I don’t think so. No worries, there are other ways to make your life a mess and I don’t miss imagination.   
\- But you’ve made some peace with alcohol.   
Mel let out a little laugh.   
\- Yeah, later. When there was no danger to embark myself unconscious to America with enough courage and no pride. Anyway, after some time my life seemed to be on some track again. And that track became a good track actually. I was even able to go back there from time to time. They, as a band, seemed to be also on a good track. Brian and Nick hadn’t talked to each other for a year after my departure, another one had left the band a few years later. Another one, one of my best friends, had spent more time in rehab than on a stage. So any other track was a good track. It was around 2013, I think. They were together again. All of them after a long time. I was living in Spain in a proper house, not on a bike roaming the country. They came to London to record a new album. And Brian showed out of nowhere in front of my house. And this time he was the one begging. This lie that we were living had finally caught up with him. His voice was gone.   
_It’s her story! HERS!_ Jon closed his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw.  
\- His bloody angelic voice was nowhere to find. Talking was an extreme sport, singing was suicidal. Yeah, it was a physical problem, some muscular shit going on, but it was psychological too. And no shrink can help you when you are not able to tell the truth. But there was no truth anymore. I sent him to fuck himself, I didn’t care about his damn voice. I cared about the fact that finally everybody seemed to had found a balance. So I played that card. Do you wanna say to your wife that she’s living a lie? Do you want to go to your son, your only son, that lovely boy that sees you as a god and tell him that daddy has to leave him? And do you wanna go to Nick and confess to him that you are the bastard that took away the love of his life? I have to be honest. I saved them then. I saved them as a whole, but I didn’t want to be his savior. He has struggled for years with that problem. He still does, but it’s not as bad as it was. The next time we spoke was when the scandal with that orphanage began. I got married, I had kids. Actually, this is not the order. First I had the kids and then I got married.  
\- Classy! Jon smiled. A said and tired smile.  
\- Yeap, that’s me! Anyway, life was good. For everybody. It seemed we found a balance or something, but it was just because for some reason we were never all at the same place, at the same time. And then, Mel paused, then 2018 came. I let myself convinced by their manager to go on a cruise with them and their fans as a...bonus and a surprise. 90s theme shit. Down to memory lane even bigger shit. I was undercover for a day and a half. It was...intense. I was immersed in some cold reality. Not my reality, but fan’s reality. Sure, you can have a hint of what people think about you, you can Google yourself if you are crazy, from time to time someone will surely ask you questions you don’t want to answer or hear, but I had to sit at a table and pretend that those women next to me were not talking about me.  
\- You serious?  
\- Yeah. It took all my acting skills. All! I didn’t know that, but people still remembered that Nick and I used to date. We were not that public. It doesn’t help to have a girlfriend when you're in a boy band, Mel snorted.  
\- Mmm, ‘cause that’s what’s important. Not the music, Jon ironically said.  
\- Of course. But it was more than that. They wanted us back together.  
\- Oh! That’s insane!  
\- Yeah. And here comes the tricky part. My presence is revealed, everybody is happy, long time no see. They asked me to do a QA session with them. I didn’t want to, but I did it. It was somehow funny and quite emotional until someone asked us if we read fan fiction.  
\- If you read what?  
\- Oh, come on! Fanfiction. You know, little stories written by fans in which you are more or less a character. And boy, their imagination is wild!  
\- This must be a boy band thing.  
\- Yeah, keep dreaming! Mel laughed. What, no one asked you by now if you ever read them?  
\- Are there stories about...about me? There were shock and a hint of worry in his voice.  
\- There are stories about goddamn cartoons and you ask me if there are stories about you? Of course there are! Personal advice: never ever read them!  
\- Did you?!  
\- No! Mel congratulated herself again that she had never clicked on one although she had been tempted on numerous occasions. One of her cousins had a pleasure for sending her links to that kind of story. _You have to read this! Masterpiece I’m telling you! I’m a lesbian and I’m still turned on by them_ …Anyways, Mel shivered inwardly, one of the boys admitted that he is aware of their existence and he knows that people love to couple them.  
\- Couple them with whom?  
\- Them...with them.  
His stomach lurched, he wasn’t sure why, and he prayed Mel won’t sense that, because that girl had a damn sixth sense sometimes. Most of the time. He didn’t want her to think that… _To think what?!_  
\- So everyone was outraged and Brian chose to be an idiot again. He confessed he once read a story about me and him having an affair. While being brothers. Real siblings. Some people are just sick, blah blah, next question. But Nick was intrigued. And he searched for that story and he found it. One of them at least. We read it together, I mean Nick and I, not the whole group. And he understood. And I couldn’t lie to him anymore. No reason had ever been good enough for him. He always knew there was something deeper and darker that made me disappear like that. “I never loved you” or “I don’t love you anymore” are enough to vanish, but not to cut all the relationships like I did. And now he knew. To my surprise, he wasn’t mad. He was relieved. But fate wanted some jokes though and the next morning we really were back to the 90s. I won’t get into details, because it was my fault and I’m not proud. No sex, no cheating, no nothing, just to be clear. But Brian was not so sure about it, because he did see an almost naked me in Nick’s bed…  
\- Excuse me?!  
\- My dear husband laughed so hard at me, I think he still does. He sends me texts “please, put your pajamas on!” and stuff like that.  
\- I don’t get it.  
\- Sometimes, when I’m tired and I can close my eyes I tend to fall asleep in my street clothes and over night I just strip. And I wasn’t aware of that. Only he knew and he never bothered to tell me.  
\- And now you tell me this? A little warning would have been nice.  
\- Why? We never shared a room.   
\- You slept on the bloody couch in my bar! That would have been some good… afternoon!  
\- Oh...it was your lucky day. Or not! Mel teased. Jon shook his head, smiling but admonishing her at the same time.  
\- So it was the 90s. I had no idea what had happened, Nick was just mocking me, Brian was out of his mind. Jealous, worried and a complete idiot like usual. It was between us three, so I believed. But Brian’s wife was on board. Tia is a good friend of mine, by the way. Life has its ways. Twisted, twisted ways. I never knew what struggle was for her to cope with the boys after my departure. She was there when everything she knew was falling apart. I wasn’t. And that weird situation reminded her of the times prior to my departure. She screamed at me, she was mad. I had never seen her mad and I couldn’t understand why I was the only target of her anger. So she told me. With pain and tears and a broken soul, she threw at me some words that are haunting me even now. Especially now.  
Mel took a deep breath and looked at him with a strange flicker in her eyes.  
- _Why am I telling him this? Why did I start this fucked up story? He can’t help me with anything. In the best-case scenario, he will laugh at me. In the worst, he will hate me. Or despise me..._  
She didn’t like that perspective. Deep down inside her, a muffled cry was trying to tell her that she didn’t like any of those perspectives.  
Jon was about to ask her what Tia had told her when Mel suddenly spoke.  
\- She said…Because you left us like fucking Sambora left Bon Jovi!  
The words floated for an instant between them before they truly reached him. His first instinct, when he understood their meaning, was to laugh. That comparison was so out of nowhere he couldn’t imagine other reaction. What the actual fuck was that?! But then it occurred to him that it was the first time when Mel said Richie’s name out loud. “You can call him by his name” or “you can say his name”. That is what he always said to her when she would stop in the middle of a sentence. And every fucking time, her answer was “No, no I can’t”. It was their little weird and fun game, but Jon realized now it was more than that. She really never let Richie’s name slip her lips. So instead of a good laugh, he just looked at her totally numb.  
\- Yeah, that was my first reaction too! She said. What was I supposed to say to something like that anyway?  
\- Why...uhm...why...He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask.  
\- Why the comparison?  
\- Aham…His mouth felt so dry he couldn’t articulate anything.  
\- Because you are her favorite band. And because her favorite band stopped to exist somewhere in 2013.  
\- Oh, come on! It’s so childish!  
\- I didn’t say it’s not stupid! But it was the only reference she had to make me understand how she felt when I left. How everybody except Brian felt when I vanished.  
\- So what did you do?  
\- Well...Mel hesitated. Hmm...Well, I snapped back and I said that she should ask Jon what the fuck he did to make him leave.  
Jon started to laugh this time.  
\- It has nothing to do with you, OK? Nothing, I swear!   
He just couldn’t stop himself, especially because Mel again avoided Richie’s name.  
\- Do you think it’s my fault? He didn’t want to start that conversation, but he needed to address that question. They could talk about a lot of shitty and uncomfortable topics, Mel’s confession was a living proof of that, but Richie managed to remain taboo over the past months. One night, after an exhausting day on set, he had almost splurted a “just say his name and ask me already!” Not that he knew what the hell to say to not sound like a preset and well-calculated recital. After a few hours of sleep, with a refreshed mind that could easily burry thoughts and feelings, he had been glad he had kept his mouth shut. It was better that way.  
\- It doesn’t matter, Jon! I don’t know what your story is so my opinion is irrelevant. I don’t even know if I have an opinion. Plus, what I’m telling you now is about me and my mistakes. And this movie is a mistake. Sooner or later she will see the movie. And it doesn’t matter how well we’ve played Nathan and Ava or how different they are from us. She will see me and you, Mel and Jon, and she will remember those damn words, because if they’ve stuck with me they’ve stuck with her too, I’m sure! And she will know! Every fan has a theory about what happened between you two and she’s no different. She will do exactly what I’m telling you not to do right now. She will overlap the stories, well at least what she thinks the stories are, and the movie and she will finally know for sure why I left.   
They remained silent for a while, Jon trying to mentally grasp all of what she had said, and Mel trying to decypher what impact her story had on him.  
\- That’s why I wasn’t thrilled that you’d be Nathan. But let’s be honest! There is no way I could have told this story when we met.  
\- I’m amazed you told it even now, he said in a low voice.  
\- Yeah, well...I’m worried I just screwed people’s life again. People whom I actually love and you are here and you deserved an explanation for my attitude and my motives. So, there you go. You’re officially the fifth person who knows this. And I hope you are the last.  
\- So my hunch was correct after all...  
\- A little, yeah. I guess that makes us even...again.  
Jon smiled and emptied his glass.  
\- There’s a certain lifestyle I don’t like, not a profession, and you know that. You put a continent and an ocean between you and Hollywood…   
\- Jon, Mel interrupted his dissertation on who deserved his appreciation and who didn’t, please, promise me you won’t let those words haunt you, OK?   
\- Don’t worry, Mel! He said after a moment of silence. You’re too pretty to associate you with my former guitarist.  
They both started to laugh and they both knew it was not entirely true.  
\- I made peace with Nick, with Brian, even with some part of me. But what I couldn’t forgive myself was that I didn’t freak out when I realized I had fallen for my own brother. Sure, it was something buried, I came to understand my feelings when I knew we weren’t related at all, but still. So Ava was my ...redemption? My second chance to act properly. I needed a punishment for that part of me and Ava’s death was perfect.  
\- Death is a little extreme, don’t you think?  
\- Maybe. But it was the closure I was looking for.  
\- We all do mistakes, kid.   
\- I know. I just told you this movie is one.  
\- That’s not what I was trying to say.  
\- It doesn’t change the facts. I thought only of myself. I was so blinded by this opportunity that I didn’t take into consideration anything else when I accepted the role. We’ll see if I’ve managed to make it relatable, but maybe this slice of my life should have remained the kind you take to the grave with you.   
Twenty-three years of silence about how she and Brian had discovered the possibility of being siblings had been blown in a one-minute scene in a movie. Her movie. Her life-long strategy of dealing with uneasy problems and anguish was not as foolproof as she thought it was. _I make sick movies to heal my inner demons. I am paid well and I resolve my problems._ With this one, she had resolved one and had created several additional ones. How many exactly, she could not tell yet.  
\- Ava didn’t deserve to die, Jon concluded.  
\- We don’t always get what we deserve.  
\- And you worry too much!  
\- Maybe, Mel chuckled. I should go to my room, it’s getting late. You have something planned in the morning, right?  
\- Yeah, but we can have breakfast together if you want.  
\- I can’t. I have to meet someone. Someone who used to be my best friend until she sent Martin that damn video.  
\- You seriously can’t still be mad about it!   
\- Just because the outcome was OK, doesn’t mean she did the right thing. And regarding that last demon you think I tackled down…It’s not true, she shook her head. If we were supposed to film again the song scene tomorrow, I would have the exact same reaction.  
\- It’s OK! Jon assured her. I got you then, I’ll get you anytime!   
It was a sincere statement, said with a sincere, maybe a little flirtatious smile, yet those words remained suspended for a few seconds around them depicting unexpected and not welcomed events. And maybe even foretelling such ones, Mel was inclined to believe.  
Those words were the verbal description of the main source of the rumors that filled the tabloids. Of course he expected some media bullshit, he was used to it. Mel was used to it. Their spouses were used to it. By the time the shootings had started, some dirty sites were already buzzing over their supposed affair. Just because one day he had invited her to a football game. _What was he supposed to do? Leave her alone in the house while he and the boys were out and Dot was caught in some other activity? It was a fucking football game, not a hotel room!_ It was one of Mel’s friends who had sent her the link with the hot breaking news. She had had a good laugh before showing him what was so damn funny. He hadn’t found it funny, though. It had been even worse after a couple of days when he and Dot had shown her their project, Soul Kitchen. That had gone south out of nowhere and made even Jesse question their relationship. His own son! All his life he did everything he could to not be a scandal magazines favorite and suddenly he was in the exact spot he had tried to avoid. For nothing! _Well, hats off, cowboy! Two women under the same roof! I just can’t tell if this counts as courage or plain stupidity!_ Mel had laughed again. If she didn’t care and Dot didn’t care why would he? But the real earthquake had come when the shootings had started. When Ava’s song scene had been filmed, Mel had stormed on the set, had taken the guitar and had delivered a perfect performance, but as soon as the camera had stopped, panic had taken over her. At least at that moment he had thought it was panic. He had seen it in her eyes, he had felt in her breath before anyone could see that she was indeed in trouble. She was trying so hard to not give in and she was failing. He knew she had passed a limit and that he had to do something to help her this time, so he had run after her, had caught her by her hand and had forced her to face him. Her breathing was rapid and superficial, her eyes were filled with tears that didn’t have yet the permission to roll down.  
- _It’s OK!_ he said and pulled her into his arms. As she put her head on his shoulder he whispered “I got you” and he felt her body go limp. Almost like a lifeless doll. In that precise moment, he had the feeling that not her fear of singing had brought her into that state, but he chose to ignore it. They stood like that for a while, Mel redemptively crying and him holding her together and safe in his embrace. Anything that he had possibly imagined to be her problem would have been far away from the truth anyway. When her cry diminished to light sobs, he loosened his grip and started stroking lightly her hair. And when her breathing was normal again he cupped her face intending to say some soothing words, but something in her dirty green and tired eyes froze any word his mouth could form, so he settled for giving her a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers curled into his forearms, half of the movement intended to push him away and the other to bring him close again. He felt her tense, her previous languor was bit by bit chased away and the part that wanted him away was soon in lead. He let her go and she uncurled her fingers with a last sigh. The whole moment was caught on camera, the pictures got leaked before the movie was done and rumors that they were more than colleagues went over the top. People were free to see anything they wanted in those pictures: two colleagues unwinding after a long day on set, two friends having an intimate and sweet moment, two lovers, two cheaters giving the media the gossip they wanted for so long. And none would have been right, he knew that, because he had been there and, it was obvious now, he had had no idea what had happened. They ignored everything, they were anyway too damn busy to care about tweets or comments or whatever, but mostly they ignored it because Mel didn’t want to say a single word about it. She only got full rage mode when she found out that there was no accident in those pictures circulating free on the internet.  
\- _Everyone who thinks we gonna pull a Bradly Copper - Lady Gaga for this movie is out of his damn minds! Cut it off with these stupid publicity stunts!_  
She hunted down that poor soul who had that brilliant idea and made sure he got fired. If he hadn’t known by that time that she can be a badass, he would surely have founded then. That was the only time those pictures were brought into discussion, if Mel addressing a rhetorical “Can you believe that idiot?!” could count as a discussion.  
\- Yeah, cause that is all that we are missing right now! Mel snorted and got up. She put the glass on a table and headed to the door. Good night, Jon!  
\- Good night, kid! He looked at his empty glass and sighed.  
_Call Dot_ , he started to recap his to-do list to bring a sense of normalcy to that evening. _You have to talk to Jesse about something you don’t remember right now. Make sure you can leave tomorrow right after the show. Breakfast 7.30. Interview 8.30._ _Speak to X. Arrange that. Check whatever._ It was not working. _Sleep._ He slowly got up, went to the bedroom and let his body fall onto the bed. He didn’t have the power to change his clothes or take a shower or anything. He didn’t have the power to stop the uproar in his head either. _You left us like…Please, please, don’t overlap!… You’re too pretty to compare you with…_ An amalgam of images and words, laughter and screams, older and newer memories were clashing in his mind. _Please, please, don’t overlap the stories!_ He put a pillow over his face and tried to scream, but nothing came out of his lungs. _It’s not there, Jon! If I can’t hear myself playing it in my head I can’t sing it. Sometimes, most of the times is just void…_ But it was no void in his. He could hear the scream, he could feel it, so why the fuck was he not able to let it out? Just like when Mel had decided it would be fun to show him how you stop a bike on the front tire and he had literally thought that would be the end, he was gonna die, when he had shut his eyes and in the only image he could see had not been his brothers, not his parents, not his kids, not his wife. It had been only Richie looking at him and smiling like he used to. Then he had screamed. When the bike had dangerously leaned forward and his body had followed, when he wasn’t sure how he could possibly hold on tighter to Mel’s body without suffocating her, when all he could hear was the tire screeching the asphalt and his heartbeats going miles per minute, in those moments Richie’s image had popped in the darkness of his melting brain. In those moments he had heard the scream inside him taking life and burst outside, leaving burning traces on its way. When the motorcycle had come back to its two wheels, the image was gone and so was the scream. He pressed the pillow harder over his face and bit it until he felt his teeth hurt. _You left us like….Shut the fuck up!!!_ He threw the pillow and inhaled deeply.


	14. Chapter 14

She should have been home by now, but the storm not only hadn’t backed down, but it had also reached the proportions of a typhoon. For a few hours already, it held most of the planes on the ground. Jon’s was one of them. Hers could have taken off at some point, but she had declined. Her kids would be probably happier to see her later and up and running, than sooner and a wreck. She was lying in the bathtub for more than an hour now. From time to time she’d turn the tap on with her right foot to let more hot water envelop her. Two talk shows. That was all they had to do together. Two talk shows and they would have not been seen together and maybe people would have forgotten about those damn pictures and rumors would have faded away. Graham Norton’s show was something else, she knew that already. That man had a talent to make his guests do or say a lot of things and not in a cringy, forced, American shows way. Like he always did, he had asked each if there was some taboo topic to be avoided. _Let me keep my private life private and I’ll answer any question you have._ If those pictures had been considered private life or not, Mel couldn’t tell, but Graham hadn’t mentioned them. Instead, he had made them talk about how they’ve met, was she a fan, was he one and things they had in common. Normal questions that somehow got interesting answers.  
\- _A gala. Took a picture with her, showed it to my youngest son and he didn’t speak to me for a week._  
 _\- For a couple of months I could have sworn she wasn’t. Turned out I was wrong._  
 _\- Still don’t know how the hell you’ve got it all so wrong. I had to choose one song of yours and I went straight to an album you don’t know if you are not a fan. Really now!_  
 _\- I knew some of her movies…_  
 _\- In the end you knew THE movie, although I’ve told you it would be better to watch it another time._  
 _\- She came into the studio one morning and, without a Good morning or anything, she stopped on her tracks, looked at me and said: Oh, no, Jon! What have you done? I can see my bare ass on your retina!_  
 _\- Oh, he discovered the hard way that he’s not the only one who likes to ride steel horses._  
 _\- I had a hunch she likes them, what took me by surprise was she’s a little bit of a maniac about who steers the horse. Yeah, she moved my ass to the passenger seat. Did I like it? You know how it’s like…First time you have no clue what it’s happening, second time you kinda like it, third time it’s fireworks and screams…_  
 _\- What third time?!_  
Then they talked about music. She was no stranger to the music industry, did that help in any way? _Not really. I was way out of my comfort zone._ Why did she refuse for so many years to sing? She had a nice voice.  
\- _Oh, no! This is a one time only. I think the conception part was the easy task. We need that and that, it’s a happy or a sad song, here is an idea for the lyrics…That was the kind of info I could easily share. We talked a lot about what the movie needed, we’ve changed ideas back and forth…it was a nice phase. The recording phase was drastically different._  
 _\- It’s not a proper album if you didn’t feel the need to strangle someone at some point,_ Jon chimed in.  
Thank God, no words about their little sessions of dance moves and search of the right chords or beats. That had remained between them. The wine was good, the other guests, Elizabeth Banks and some British comedian she knew, but never caught his name, were funny as hell and before she knew it, they were back in his studio or on the set, teasing and mocking each other. _To hell with standard questions and answers!_ She couldn't remember how the whole discussion slipped into the sex zone, but it was obvious there was no way one could let them out of that bubbly topic. So, was it any different this time to film steamy scenes? _Yeah, no rape, no assault, and no woman. You bet it was different,_ she joked. Jon admitted that it was different just because an almost 60-year-old guy is not really the definition of sexy and because by the time the filming started they were too much of good friends and it felt a little awkward.  
\- _You know it’s never as sexy as people imagine. Everybody will tell you that. Especially when one of the two, and I’m not saying names,_ Jon pointed to her, _can’t even simulate a vague interest in the other and starts laughing at every touch._  
 _\- Not the usual response?_ Graham sarcastically asked.  
 _\- Far away from it!_   
_\- You were tickling me! And it happened only once! It had nothing to do with interest!_ She defended. _The idea was to witness with the help of some sexy, yet decent scenes…By the way, if you expect 9 1/2 weeks kind of action, you’ll be disappointed._  
 _\- No…Don’t tell me it's not his ass in the trailer! Elizabeth interfered. Or the glass of wine she had._  
Mel rewound the trailer in her mind. _What was she talking about?_ There was no explicit scene in the trailer. Or not that explicit…As if on cue, Jon spoke.  
\- _It’s wrapped in sheets. And what it’s not wrapped is covered by her skilled hands, but yeah...it is._  
\- _I’ll take it!_ the woman grinned and Mel let out an annoyed puff.  
 _\- It’s not an R movie, OK? Anyway, the idea was to witness how Nathan and Ava’s relationship changes. And, you know, the first encounters are a little rougher, his character has some kind of internal conflict about giving in to my character, and I’m used to these scenes. The sweet lovemaking ones are not really my thing…what the hell did I just say?_ She stopped talking as everybody laughed. _In movies_ , she accentuated. _I guess_ _it was a bad day for that soft scene. But, as Jon said, it’s never that sexy as people imagine. It’s work, thirty persons around you, and most of the time is choreography._  
 _\- Yeah, most of the time. However, in this one, we had some freestyle moments. I have to admit that there is a scene,_ Jon said _, the first we shoot, in which I didn't even act. When our characters meet for the first time, at a party, and Nathan is knocked down by her appearance. When Mel entered that room everything stopped._  
 _\- Why are you saying this?_  
 _\- Because it's true,_ he laughed. _It was not the fact you were all dressed up, pheromones flying everywhere or something. It was your energy. You were the queen and every mortal in that room was your servant. Including me. Suddenly, I had to kiss my good friend and it turned out my good friend, besides being a weirdo who easily gets tickled, is a breathtaking master of seduction._  
 _\- Well, you are to blame for that!_  
 _\- Why am I at fault?_  
 _\- Because as you said, by the time the filming started we were more like...No, I won't say father and daughter, ‘cause that’s covered by the movie and is not desirable. Let's just say that if I were a guy, what we have would be called a bromance. I founded myself in a difficult position. How can I attract someone who is not into whatever I am, and moreover, how the hell do I attract someone who had all the women at his feet._  
 _\- You are talking about my character now, right?_  
 _\- More or less,_ she laughed. _I know I told you to forget you are Jon Bon Jovi on set, but when I saw you with your hair dyed, looking like you were in your damn 40s or something…Dang!… I was the one who brought him on set. What acting? I had to swap Jon Bon Jovi off his feet and I had no clue how to do that. And that was all I could come up with._  
 _\- Ladies, are you taking notes?_ Graham joked.  
\- _You know what? I’m not buying that bromance shit!_ The guy who was seated next to her said. _Are you two secretly dating or married or something?_  
 _\- We did secretly married, right Jon? But not to each other._  
Another thing they had in common. The whole couch and the whole audience laughed, but that question was a sign that rumors would not fade soon. And their attitude didn’t help either. Sure, it was a common thing for co-stars to act friendly towards each other, but, judging by people’s reaction, they were more than friendly. Indeed, they had a curious kind of chemistry, they could turn it for real into a sexual one, the movie was a proof of that, his confession about the first scene was a proof of that. Maybe Martin could be blamed, because the man had had a crazy idea, “ _Oh, my God, you friend-zoned Bon Jovi! And he is not far from friend-zoning you! How the hell did you do it?_ ” he had accused her when he had seen them on the set. _“What the hell did you expect? To enemy-zone each other?!”_ she had replied. Martin had then decided that the first scene to shoot would be the one at the party. Jon had no idea how Mel’s character would look like. He expected the blonde Mel he knew, not the caramel brown that enhanced the devilish green in her eyes. Both Nathan and Jon should have seen Ava at the same time, but as Mel had founded out, only Jon had been present then. Martin had taken advantage of their sudden awestruck, especially of Jon’s, and had shot the sexy scenes afterward. He gave her zero suggestions and made her believe Jon was in the same situation. “ _Act as you feel_ ”. Supposedly, by the time that scene was to happen, Ava had brought Nathan on the verge of every limit he had, yet Mel had been more than surprised when their first kiss, their characters’ first kiss, had turned 50 shades of Grey as he violently pushed her face forward into a wall and clenched his fingers in her hair, pulled it hard and exposed her neck and mouth for the ravishing that had followed. His sex and anger filled voice murmuring in her ear, his hot breath on her skin, his heart beating so hard in his chest that she could feel it on her back and her own speeding up to match that insane rhythm…On those moments she had not been sure how much of Nathan and how much of Jon were in him. The evil smile on her face, a smile that Jon had seen days after and had compared it with the one that had given her away when he had guessed the song she silently had danced, had entirely satisfied Martin. One could get a glimpse of the deranged plan Ava had in mind only by seeing that smile. That was the sign of a sinful victory, her character subjugated his character. But Mel had to wonder if that smile had been Ava’s or hers. For a few days, she had been scared that their bromance or friend-zone or whatever they had was gone and he was not the only culpable. At some point, she had learned that it had been all Martin’s idea, but by that time it was clear none of them was eager to trade reality for a fantasy. Or so she had thought. _No, no…_ It was like that for sure. What had happened earlier today had an explanation and it had nothing to do with a sudden desire from his part to change their silent and mutual agreement. There was something else going on and she probably had to find it out.  
She stepped out of the bathtub and heard some knocks on the door. She yelled a “just a second _”_ and quickly put a robe on her and wrapped her hair in a towel.  
\- I said just a second! she said as she opened the door because the knocks hadn't stopped while she was making herself almost decent.  
\- Fancy some wine? Jon was standing in front of her with two bottles of wine in his left hand. He clearly had started the fancying process way earlier.  
\- Is the rest of the band with you? she asked ironically and took a look at the hallway. She quickly withdrew because there were some people quite close. A drunk Jon and a freshly bathed Mel. That was surely not gonna help to stop the gossips. Just get inside! she said and moved to let him come in.  
\- Are you busy?  
\- Not anymore. She was trying to understand what in the world would make him come to her door like that.  
\- You're still mad at me, he said making the face of a spoiled kid who knows he will be forgiven.  
\- I am a lot of things right now. Mad is not even in the top 10.  
\- Happy to see me is number one? he grinned and before she could say something he went to the little bar to open one of the bottles. He turned to her and handed her one glass. To one hack of a movie! he toasted.  
He still had a provocative smile on his lips, but his eyes were on the opposite pole.  
\- Should I be worried? she asked him calmly. She had some good, harsh replies for him, but she chose to give him one more chance to act decent.  
\- Worried? That should be under mad, sweetheart! he said sarcastically and tossed down half of his wine.  
Mel started to laugh and moved away from him.  
\- Hmm, I was starting to think that I would never see this part of you!  
\- What part?  
\- The self-absorbed moody bastard I was warned you can be, she said still amused.  
He could be like that sometimes. Many times, if you’d asked the ones who didn’t like him for one reason or another. Tonight, though, was not about that. Tonight was something different that had made him work his way to her room. She was not to blame for that, but she surely was the one who had brought to surface all those feelings that bothered him and he could not send into oblivion anymore. Or into something that resembled oblivion. He was not able to say how she had done it, though. The girl from the posters or movies, even the girl he had met at the gala, had not managed to provide the tiniest hint about the girl who had slowly unveiled to him over the past months. He had tried on many times to put a label on her, but she had always managed to slip from one category to another and, at some point, he had just lost track and he had settled for a walking contradiction. Or, better, a walking dissonance. Yeah, those words described her perfectly. He was not a stranger to divergent personalities. He had been raised by one, he was married to one and, by all accounts, he had raised one. So what was so special about her? So what she could lighten up a room packed with staid men with one joke and dominate the same room with no words and a sharp look? So what she was Miss Ice Queen and tons of fun, depending on circumstances? So what she liked to ride bikes and loved to cover herself in stars? _I will not be your_ ...Their first argument, on the very first hour at his place. The first avoidance of Richie's name. The first one from a long series. He never knew what her choice for ending that sentence would have been. Right hand, right-wing, writing partner, friend... Best friend. That was some vacant post and he was not sure if he had pushed her in it without realizing it or she had slipped in it by accident. Whatever had happened it was clear for him now how much he had missed having that kind of relationship with someone. And this one, unexpected as it was, was coming to an end and he was anything but ready to let it go. Not without a fight. He needed so bad to shout, to cry out all his anger, to blame someone, to make somebody as miserable as he was, but Mel did not enter his game. Dealing with two 5-year-olds, she was probably so used to tantrums, that his demonstration was hilarious at best. But that didn’t mean he could stop himself.  
Mel put the glass down and freed her hair from the towel. She shook her head a few times and ran her hands through her dump blonde hair, before taking a seat on the couch. He liked her like that. Looking like a savage kid ready to do some skylarks, ready to conquer the world. _Young and brave…_  
\- How come you never wear your hair like that in public? Or at home? Or anywhere else besides my house?  
Mel looked puzzled at him. Again she wanted to respond with some passive-aggressive line, and again she chose not to do it.  
\- Call it vanity, but I like to actually look good, you know? She smiled and avoided injecting sarcasm in her tone. It wasn’t always like this. It was way wavier when I was younger and back then I always let it just be when I was in my free time. It was like a disguise. And now it needs a little help to be what it was, that’s all. As for that last question…you were the one who knocked at my door in the morning and said to not make myself pretty, remember?  
\- And you decided that was a good moment to be a people-pleaser?  
\- You should choose your wishes more carefully, what can I say?  
He didn’t say anything. No need for a confession that would do no good. He drank the rest of the wine.  
\- Jon, what are you doing here?  
She didn’t seem annoyed. She was smiling actually. Not with that provocative mouth of hers, but with her eyes, a bit brown, a bit green eyes that could make you feel like you were the king of the world or the most pathetic person ever. And right now he was more to the latter specter.  
\- Fulfilling tabloids fantasies? He grinned and went to fill the glass again.  
\- I thought you asked me if I fancy some wine not if I fancy you…  
\- Why not both? He smiled seductively before taking a mouthful of wine.  
\- I like that you keep it classy when you could save some time and just drink from the bottle, she took a sip from her glass as she crossed her legs.  
She never did that. She always kept her knees and ankles tightly together and slant her legs to the side when seated, especially in public.  
 _Royal. Oh, so royal!_   
\- That is a nice start, he purred.  
Mel thought at how much she would laugh at him in the future when he would snap out of whatever he was and only embarrassment would be left.  
\- I don’t know how things work for you, but in my world legs usually go opposite directions for a start.  
\- Ah, but there is nothing usual about us.  
Mel appreciated his quick come back.  
\- No, she smiled, I guess there’s not. But tell me, Jon, why are you really here?  
\- I’m giving you the chance to swipe Jon Bon Jovi off his feet for real?  
For a brief second, it crossed Mel’s mind that she could play that game. A long-time buried part of her wanted to play that game. Thankfully, the rest of her knew that game had no winner. Only victims. Not losers, victims.  
\- _As I learned today, I’ve already done it,_ Mel bit her tongue to stop those words. Why did you send him here?  
\- Who?  
\- That man I don’t know and you are talking about. Why is he here, Jon?  
\- Does he need a reason? Other than a fine pair of legs…He slid his eyes starting from her toes up to the uncovered knees with a dangerous smile. A wanna-be dangerous smile.  
\- You know, I would love to see where all this is going, because is damn funny. But I’ll be again the wiser one and I’ll stop you.  
\- Because you have morals and you think I have too?  
\- No. Because neither of us wants this, she suddenly became serious. So I’m gonna ask you one more time. Why are you here, Jon? Her tone softened a bit.  
It was a good question. Why was he there? What was he doing? Why was he sabotaging their relationship? Because in a few hours she would be in some other country and he would never see her again in his studio? Because if he was not going to see someone again at least he could know why? _Give her something to be mad about._ He thought sex, well not actual sex, just implied sex would do the trick. But that was stupid of him. Those rumors amused her as long as they were rumors. When there was some kind of truth behind them, they stopped being funny and yet she was refusing to cause a scene because of his reckless and preposterous behavior. She was better than that.  
\- I'm sorry.  
\- For? She smiled and took a sip of wine.  
\- For everything. I did exaggerate on the show today. I shouldn't have stirred the pot. It's already well shaken.  
That was true, but he had had a fucking great time on that set, something that had not occurred in years. He could not remember the last interview on which he had laughed so much as it did today. Always serious, always decent, always reserved.  
\- I think I gave you the spoon. Another smile, another sip of wine.  
\- And I'm sorry about this. He looked around him like he was trying to find an answer. I don't even know what I’m doing.  
He dropped the glass of wine and let the air escape his lungs, eyes suddenly teary and lost. He looked tired, more tired than Mel had ever seen him. He went like a zombie straight to the open bedroom and collapsed on the bed, face buried in the pillow.  
\- I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know…he was still mumbling when Mel came closer.  
\- Uhm…Jon….you know you’re having a meltdown in my bed, right?  
He turned on his side to look at her.  
\- So what? You had one on my floor and one in my arms. I think you can let me your bed, he mumbled, face still half buried in the pillow.  
\- _Your floor, your arms, you, you...From all the people in this world...you…_ Mel tossed down the wine. Yeah, it’s all yours! Knock yourself out!  
\- Too late, I knocked myself down already.  
Mel went near the bed and took a seat on the floor, leaning her back against the frame of the bed. It was hard to see him like that, so she avoided looking at him. _Did her last evening story bring him in that condition?_ No, it wasn’t possible.  
\- I don’t know how to help you, Jon.  
\- You don’t have to help me. I didn’t lie today about us being good friends, but it’s not your job to help me.  
\- Are we really friends? Will you call me on my birthday?  
\- I don’t know your real birthday. Or your real name.  
\- So we are not that good friends, aren’t we?  
\- We are something…I don’t have a name for it, but you could tell me yours, though.  
\- Why? So you can write me a letter?  
Mel squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw. She even closed her fists to punch something, anything else from that sore point in Jon that draw a surprised and painful gasp out of him.  
 _Fuck…From all the songs, from all the lyrics, you stumbled on that one._ Good job! She spared the nearby objects and opened her fists.  
\- It’s Sofia, Mel said with a sorrowful sigh. What good could an apology do anyway? Sofia Eleni…  
\- Eleni suites you, he slowly spoke.  
\- That’s what my husband says too. I don’t like it.  
\- Wasn’t she some goddess or something?  
\- Just the most beautiful woman in the world for whom a war was started.  
\- So it suits you.  
Jon wished so bad he could laugh. He sensed the painful smile on Mel’s lips as she let the air out with another sigh. He didn’t even have the strength to do that.  
\- Only my biological parents know when it’s my real birthday. And I wanna keep it this way for now.  
\- S’all right. Romeo likes to have the same birth month as you. Real or not.  
\- The fact that he’s sharing it with you too doesn’t thrill him?  
\- Not as much.  
\- If he gets on your nerves you can tell him your birthday is closer to mine than his.  
\- But it’s not.  
\- In reality it is.  
\- Oh…how close?  
\- Annoyingly close, Mel chuckled and Jon almost did it too. _It’s so damn close we might as well be born on the same day…_  
\- Mel...he said after a while.  
\- Hmm?  
\- Can you do something for me?  
\- Oh, God! Last time you asked me this we made a very unconventional writing session.  
\- It involves singing this time.  
Mel's eyes widened and she turned to face him, gathering her legs under her, arms resting on the bed.  
\- There was something about the last song from your little concert on my floor that remained with me. Do you remember what song it was?  
Mel nodded, surprised by his question. She could not forget it, but why the hell did he remember that one in particular from that extremely random potpourri?  
\- Can you sing it for me? Please?  
\- Yeah, I think I can, she said after giving a moment’s thought, but you owe me one.  
She wasn't sure that she could pull that song, though. At his studio, she had started crying while singing it out of nowhere. She loved that song, she loved the lyrics, it always made her smile when playing it. It was one of those sad songs that just made her happy, however twisted that might sound. But on that particular morning, those damn lyrics took another meaning and for the first time in her life she had felt the pain in them. Real pain. And all because while browsing the almighty YouTube in an attempt to remember her songs, one click here, one sip of wine, one click there, another empty glass, _for fuck’s sake ignore that suggestion, it won’t help you_ , another video, more wine, _fuck it, I’m drunk and this video keeps popping out, what the heck YouTube, you drunk too?_ One bottle down, time to get up and open another _, just click the damn video already, what do you think you gonna see? Jon and Richie, big deal! Jon is in his room with a knife, your knife in his back and Richie floats around this room anyway. Boohoo!_ So she clicked it. She didn’t know what she had expected to see, cute moments, hilarious moments, important moments, the usual stuff you get in some fan-made video, but at the end of it, her heart was in pieces. She was in pieces. Sure, the wine had its fair part of guilt, but… _That look…that look…how the fuck do you say goodbye to that? How do you live without it?_ What tear-jerker movies? A three minutes video with these two could win any prize for the most heartbreaking story. Have they ever been aware of what they had? _That look, for god’s sake! That look…_  
She slowly started to sing and Jon closed his eyes letting her voice wash over him. There was no cure in that song, that he remembered well, but he didn’t deserve one anyway.  
It was like someone had a magic wand, a stupid magic wand that could bring tears in her eyes in a flash. She tried her best to not chock and just carry with the song, but those words reverberated in her brain and took again a heart-breaking meaning. A new heart-breaking meaning.  
\- What's wrong? Jon opened his eyes and looked at her.  
\- I'm sorry...she managed to say.  
\- Why are you crying?  
She shook her head avoiding his gaze.  
\- Hey...he tried to reach her with his arm, but she quickly put her hand over his, pinning it to the bed.  
\- I know what I'm singing, OK? You don't!  
\- Tell me! Translate it for me.  
\- Jon…Mel pleaded.  
\- You cried then, you cried now. That has to be one hell of a song.  
\- It used to make me happy. And I buried it with all its happiness in your studio, Mel made a bitter grimace and inhaled deeply. It won't sound good in English and I don’t know if I can preserve the true meaning.  
\- It doesn't matter.  
Mel suspired and she closed her eyes while thinking about the right words.  
\- So…It goes like this, she said and started to talk slowly, imprinting the words with a certain melodicity.  
  
My memory doesn't keep you anymore  
If I wanted to sing to you I would falter voiceless  
  
She bit her lips as she felt tears forming again in the corner of her eyes. English was no better at restoring the original feeling of the song. Their eyes locked at that last word and Mel decided right there and then that she had had enough of tiptoeing around him.  
  
You were a madness and a ray of light  
But you remain an old phone number.  
People come and tell me  
Some good or bad news about you,  
But we don't even have shared memories anymore  
You left taking everything that was yours.  
  
I tuned you like a violin  
You sang in my hands, under my chin  
And when I suddenly threw you out the door  
You could not sing forevermore  
  
She paused a little, but she was not trying to hold back her tears anymore. Those two last lyrics were like a romanticized summary of 2013. In any way you’d look at them, chronologically there was no mistake there. The only addition was a causality, one that might be wrong, but it was hard to ignore giving her own experience and given the fact his sorrow was almost palpable. But at that moment there was one more thing that was breaking her into pieces. For some kind of reason, she had always considered her job safe. No temptation for cheating, because it didn’t matter how much of her was putting in a character, it was just acting in the end. It never mattered how good looking her colleagues were, or how well they got along, or how much chemistry they had together. She never clicked romantically with anybody and she knew why. All her love stories started with a song. All. But what was she doing now was more than a love story. This was the worst kind of cheating that she could possibly do. Jon didn’t believe her, but she had a feeling her battle with music was a lost one. Her husband was more than thrilled that they would finally get their daughter’s song recorded. He had told her that. _You don’t have any more excuses now, Matia._ _The whole globe knows you can sing_ . She was not that sure and she was too afraid to try. She had no good explanation for her newly found ability to sing around Jon. Sure, he had put a lot of effort to teach her some things, but what he didn’t know was that it was a specific moment when she knew there was a chance she might be able to do it. When, despite reason, she had slipped in that 9 crimes song. When, despite her efforts, her body followed his voice and took a seat next to him at the piano. Something clicked. And that was the kind of relationship she didn’t want to have with anyone but her husband. The worst part was she didn’t know if she had it with him, but it was a true fact that she had it with Jon. Fate was in some mood for bad jokes, so it seemed.  
Jon inhaled deeply and felt wet traces on his cheeks. _Why was he crying? Why was she crying?_ That was not related to last night's story, that was something deeper if that was possible.  
  
On the battlefield if I was or dead of some disease  
Sentenced or with broken knees  
Love, hope and rebellion  
Over me you had to sing  
A forgotten phone and an address ...  
I hear you suffer and live a wicked life  
  
In some corner of her mind, Mel wished that his tears were just alcohol babies or at least some former femme fatale from his past that had returned to haunt him. She simply wanted to not know, to not feel what was happening with him. Or to not give a damn. But how could she not when she was not able to shake off the feeling that the only ghost from the past was herself?  
  
You clean your leash every day  
And you, with your own hand, put it at your throat.  
But your tuning was in vain  
You sang because you knew I liked you so  
  
Her chin trembled a little as she was trying hard to carry on with the lyrics. _Why was she crying? Why was he crying? Who sang to whom?_ At the gates of his consciousness, old and years now painful memories were again starting to throng, threatening to overflow him.  
  
And then from a forgotten and sad diptych  
With a smile of helplessness you keep staying quite  
Was it love? Or was is it a long lie?  
  
Her faltered voice sent spears through every piece of his broken heart. That was a question he had never had the guts to ask, out loud or internally. It just lingered unsaid and unformed in his head. Mel tilted her head a little, her teary eyes sunk in his, silently apologizing for bringing those words to life.  
  
Please allow my best wishes  
From my exile to reach you  
By any name today you would have moved.  
You don't exist anymore, you are the lightning of the summer  
That left melted sky in my brain  
And when I threw you out the door.  
That's when I loved you the most.  
  
_Why was he crying? Why was she crying? What was all that song about anyway? Stupid people that lost their stupid voices for some stupid lost love...Why did he ask her to sing? Why he insisted? Why the fuck that damn song has stuck with him? Why not another? Why it had to have a meaning? And what was the meaning anyway?_  
  
\- You're an idiot! she broke off and her words brought him back into his senses. He looked at her, not through her this time. I'm sorry! But you are an idiot and I can't pretend anymore that you are not one!  
\- Because I’m crying?  
\- Because you do nothing! Because you keep pretending that everything is all right when nothing is and nothing will ever be!  
He wanted to protest, he even opened his mouth to say something, but she quickly cupped his cheek with her left hand and put enough pressure and enough meaning to feel it like a slap. One he actually deserved.  
\- Listen to me! Maybe I have no right to tell you this, maybe you heard it before, I don’t know!...  
\- He’s not returning to the band, Mel! Jon said feeling the corner of his lips touching her cold hand.  
\- It’s not about the band, for fuck’s sake! she tightened nervously her fingers in his hair. What band?! It’s about your life! Don’t you get it? We are always too old to stay upset at people that we love! Do you know why I was able to stay three fucking weeks at your place while my husband stayed with the kids? Because that was all he could do after his best friend died out of sudden. I’ve witnessed his crash and they were not even mad at each other. Heaven forbid one of you happens something, ‘cause the other will follow in no time! That is the kind of connection you have! So it doesn’t matter who was wrong and who was right, and it doesn’t matter if things will go back to what they were or not. What it matters is now, in this fucking present, you are miserable! You miss him and whatever he means to you!  
\- You really should stop reading fan fiction, kid! He tried a joke because the simple mention of death froze his heart, but she scolded him with just one look.  
\- What do you know about it anyway? Her grip was slowly fading.  
\- It’s not hard to imagine what they are implying. This gossip is older than you are. But it’s nothing like that...You look slightly disappointed, he noticed.  
\- Don’t turn this on me, she smiled and slowly started to circulate her fingers through his hair and smoothly caressing his face with her thumb, chasing away the last tears _._  
 _Damn, it felt good!_ He closed his eyes and let the burning air in his lungs get out.  
\- Or maybe it is. I don’t know anymore, he almost whispered.  
 _What the fuck is he trying to say?!_  
\- I have to let you know I’ll laugh my ass off if you gonna tell me he begged you to leave your wife for him.  
Jon's eyes widened as much as some teary drunken eyes could widen.  
\- What?!  
\- I'm just kidding, you know, overlapping stuff.  
\- Do you think some fanfic of yours covered this scenario?  
\- Oh, I bet on at least a few dozens. Her hand felt out of the rhythm as they both laughed. A short and nervous laugh that allowed them to carry on. They always did that, diffuse the atmosphere with some jokes.  
\- I didn't read them, Mel confessed. And I’m very happy I didn’t do it because I would have had a distorted view. They can get pretty close to reality, but that doesn’t change the fact it’s not real. It’s just fantasy and …guessing. Maybe I would have hated you. Can't say for nothing, but surely not for the right reasons.  
\- So you think it's my fault after all, Jon whispered.  
No more tiptoeing.  
\- A lot of people think that! You included sometimes! Don't argue with me! Another subliminal slap in her touch made him keep his mouth shut. I have no fucking idea why he left like that and I don't wanna know! It's not even important! Maybe he had good reasons, maybe he didn't, maybe you don't even know, hell, even for him maybe is unclear what the fuck happened, maybe he got lost, sometimes people do get lost, maybe it's about a forbidden love or just professional bullshit, but for fuck's sake, Jon, what is your explanation for not reaching to him? Cause I'm right, aren’t I? You didn't really try to understand what happened. You were too busy being a diva and act as bitchy as you could, punishing someone who was already punishing himself.  
Her words, although only partially true, were like salt on an open wound. _Partially? What's partial in diva bitch description?_   
\- You don't walk like that from 30 years of your life with an easy heart, you don't walk like that from less. Believe me, I know!  
\- How did your story end?  
Mel looked at him in awe. He could feel it in her eyes, but mostly in her fingers that she wanted so bad to smack him out of his senses. Or back in them.  
\- What?  
\- Your story from last night. How did it end?  
\- What difference does it make? He's not me!  
\- I just... I need to hear a happy ending even it's not mine. Does it make sense?  
\- No. You're hanging on the wrong things.  
Her thumb gently wiped a tear that started its roll as he closed his eyes. _Why do I care? Why?_ She hasn't found yet an answer and chances were she would never get one.  
\- I don’t know why I’ve told you about this part of my life. It didn’t do any good to me and it didn’t do any good to you. I’m sorry! And I’m sorry I don’t have a happy ending that can match some weird expectation you have. Your situation is different. He might not have left to hurt you, but that doesn’t change the reality, Jon. And the reality is it did hurt you and I don’t think he really knows it because you keep pretending it’s all good. It’s always the words we don’t say, not the ones we say that keep us from moving on, you know? I could tell you how and why I forgave Brian and what he did to make me grant him absolution, but it’s useless. I didn’t love him anymore when I did that. I would have hurt only myself if I hadn’t done it. However, I don’t think it’s the same with you. He might be out there trashing you between lines from time to time, but that doesn’t mean the love he has for you is gone. And if you have the impression love is a pompous word, think again! Just take a look at some random footage of you two and you’ll get it.  
 _I don’t have to. I remember them all. And I miss them like I’m a fucking schoolgirl._ He sniffled a few times and Mel turned to the nightstand, reaching for a box of tissues.  
\- Here! She said. Crying is never as smooth as movies made us think.  
He took one, clumsy wiped his nose then crumpled the tissue and threw it. His intention was to send that thing to the nightstand, but from that position and with all that alcohol in him, his aim had been way off and the tissue landed somewhere on the floor.  
\- You’re worse than a kid, she said with no intention to scold him.  
 _Kid…Why did he call her “kid”?_ Was is it the age gap? Was is it her ragged look he eventually grew fond of? Was is it intuition for what was to follow? No. It must have been the messy hair. And maybe the childish, excited smile she had after their first ride. But mostly it was the hair. Anyone who had the chance to see her as he did would call her the same. His mind slipped back to the previous hours when they were on Graham’s set.  
 _\- So, Mel, you posted an interesting photo on your Instagram account a few days ago._  
 _\- Did I?_  
A black and white photo of Mel holding an electric guitar and mimicking playing a solo appeared on the screen. Her puffy hair was covering her face and she was wearing her regular outfit: starry washed-out jeans and a t-shirt.  
 _\- Oh, but it’s not that interesting. I liked it and I thought it suites the movie. It screams rock!_ She laughed.  
 _\- It does, it does… Was it some professional photoshoot?_  
 _\- No. Far, far, from the truth. Jon took the picture, I don’t know why he’s laughing now. We were in his studio…_  
 _\- We were in the pub, Mel._  
 _\- Hey, I’m trying to keep it professionally here!_  
 _\- Pub sounds professional to me. He is a rock star,_ Graham joked.  
 _\- So, we were in his pub, Mel ignored the giggles, and I realized I’ve never touched an electric guitar. Yeah, I know! She said while the public laughed. He laughed too, but he wasn’t so smiley when I asked him to show me some intro from another band._  
 _\- That must have been some hit below the belt._  
Jon shrugged and smiled.  
 _\- She wanted my guitar, not my songs. It happens._  
 _\- So, did you show her?_  
 _\- Oh, he gave me the shortest and comprehensive lesson in history. It’s not that different from an acoustic one. That’s what he said to me._  
 _\- And two seconds later…Bang! Smoke on the water!_  
 _\- Only the intro, you’re not that extraordinary as a teacher!_ Mel teased him a little _. Anyway, I was fooling around and you know, you don’t get every day the chance to hold Jon Bon Jovi’s guitar, right? I was on a roll, so I asked him to take a picture. And that was it._  
 _\- So, it was nothing staged?_  
 _\- No, why?_  
 _\- Haven’t you read the comments?_  
 _\- No…_  
 _\- Well, we did! And this one, in particular, came to our attention. “I’m confused. I didn’t know Jon Bon Jovi used to have tits in the 80s.”._  
Everyone started to laugh. Everyone. For a few minutes, no one could do anything but laugh _._  
 _\- And it only has 10000 likes._  
 _\- Jesus!_ Mel hissed. _OK….To my embarrassment, this picture is not an impersonation attempt, that is how I look and how I dress. And that is no 80s hair, it’s just DNA gone wrong. Besides, come on, we are nothing alike. He would have loved to have legs like mine,_ Mel laughed.  
 _\- Yeah, I would! Mostly around me!_  
She had shaken her head, wordlessly and camera-friendly scolding him, she even came up with a funny line to distract people from his slip. _And we thought your hair and my ass would be the main characters in this movie, and look at that, your ass and my hair stole the show. H_ e knew she was anything but happy with his flirty attitude. On a thought’s thread in her mind, he was probably screaming in agony, begging to be killed already.  
That comment might have been stupid and mean, but there was some truth in it. He had seen himself in her.  
\- Look, Jon! Mel resumed her speech and her caress. Our stories are not the same, we are not the same…  
 _No, but sometimes you are in my head like…like…_  
\- Are you sure we are not? Your fans seem to differ, he interrupted her.  
Mel let out a short laugh.  
\- It’s just a picture and a showoff comment. Don’t take it personally. We are…we are like two damn instruments who play two completely different songs that sometimes meet each other. On some measures, they sound just the same. If you choose to hear only those moments, yeah, we are the same, but the songs are damn long, it would be a shame to stop only at some parts.  
\- If I hadn’t been crying already, I would have started now!  
They both burst into an amalgam of tears and nervous laugh.  
\- Jesus, Jon! What have we done with this movie?  
\- I don’t know, kid. I don’t know anymore.  
She was right. They were completely different until they weren’t anymore. And when they went separate ways, her song was falling equal on some measures with one song that used to accompany his own back in the days. One song that he thought he would hear forever, one song that he thought he knew by heart, but most of all, a song that he loved.  
\- Do you know what’s the hardest thing to do when you’re the kind of person who needs to control everything? Let yourself loved by others. It’s terrifying.  
Jon slightly rose his eyebrows.  
\- Yeah. I’m telling you. Fucking terrifying. Because you can’t control the way people love you. They will do it in their own way, despite what you want. I’ve blamed Brian for all my love failures, epic ones, but he was not the only one to blame. Not the major factor either. I was. Me and my stupid control need. I pushed people in some prefabricated molds. You gonna love me just that much, and you gonna love me like that, and you won’t love me at all. Some tried to comply. Some didn’t. They were the smart ones, I guess. The ones that knew butchering themselves just to squeeze in some false matrix won’t do any good. You see, it’s always easier to give than receive love…  
\- Good lyric…  
\- Already written lyric!  
\- Of course…he smiled and closed his eyes under her touch. Who taught you to receive love? He muttered.  
\- My kids. My husband…he could feel her smile on that word.  
\- He’s lucky to have you…  
\- No, I’m the lucky one.  
Her fingers curled in longing and something else he could not really name. A part of his mind took notice of that gesture, but he was too much of a wreck to give it a meaning _._  
 _It’s always easier to give than receive love…_ That had nothing to do with control need. Or not only with control need. You could lack the desire to control even a bumper car and still be afraid to let yourself loved. Or maybe that control need was hiding something else. _Did I tell her “If I was your mother” is the song that suits her the most?_ He could not remember…  
Mel watched his rib cage moving as he took a long, deep inhale in what was supposed to mark an end to the agony that the last hours had been. But as soon as the air tried to take the return path, his whole body unexpectedly and, more unsettling, uncontrollably shivered. There was a battle inside him, in one corner the rational, painfully lucid control maniac, in the other, all the sorrow, pain and uncried tears that were fighting to get out. Mel knew that battle all too well and she knew it was as hard to hold on as it was to let go. For her, it was always an external factor that inclined the balance to the “cry your soul out” side. When that trigger didn’t come, she had always brushed off her feelings or locked them inside and that did help in the short term, but in a long one, it was just another brick on a wall called disaster. Unable to breathe in or out, Jon opened his eyes groping for some sign or answer. Or just some help. She could remain silent and do nothing and his cold machine side would forever be grateful, or she could offer him that one signal that would allow him to finally and totally shatter. He had done that for her. Although it had not been intentional or conscious, and Mel almost hated him for that, he had offered her that.  
\- It’s ok! She said without further thinking. Let it all out, baby, just let it all out…  
His whole body tensed in a desperate effort to hold back his tears. His jaw was clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, his fingers curled in tight fists. He slightly turned on his back, her hand was no longer able to caress him so she retrieved it on the sheets. Mel put aside her thoughts about why she had called him “baby”, a word she never used as an endearment one, when he saw him biting on his left fist. She was not sure if he wanted to choke himself, or to hold back a scream, or just hurt himself but she knew whatever he was trying to do was no good.  
\- Come on…just let it go…she pleaded and grabbed his wrist slightly pulling it back.  
\- It…hurts…so…fuck..ing…much…!!!he screamed between scorching breaths, both his fists hitting the bed in fury. Mel felt every piece of his broken heart in those words and every fight he had led to pretend the fractures where just scratches.  
\- I know, she murmured. _I know now..._  
\- So…much…he mumbled and turned on his side again to face her.  
\- I know. You have to let it go, baby, ok?…she said once again. When her hand cupped again his cheek and her fingers curled into his hair, Mel eventually felt him unwind. He was finally able to cry with no shame, no hard feelings, and no thoughts. Just cry.  
She wanted so badly to crawl near him, take him into her arms and chase away that pain. A pointless desire as her arms didn’t have that power. No one’s arms had that power. So she continued to caress him long after his tears had fallen dry, despite her legs feeling numb under her and her arm starting to give signs of surrender. When she noticed that his breath was regular and light and she was sure he was sleeping, she painfully moved to her knees, right arm bent under her belly and slowly leaned over him until her lips almost touched his ear.  
\- Forgive me, she whispered.  
 _Forgive me that I didn’t know how to be beside you! Forgive me that I put my needs, my suffering above yours!_ Those were the words that brought her back to her husband when she had tried to storm out of his life at the first big bump in their relationship _._ She was a master of leaving without a damn word and now she knew what kind of strength and love it took to say those words when your own wounds were deeper than everything you have ever seen and had.  
\- ”Forgive me” might do the trick! One last caress and a kiss on the hair. Be the man he always knew you can be, Kidd! Be the man he needs!  
She rose on her itchy and wambly feet, carefully to not wake him up and looked down at him.  
 _Damn! This is some fucked up version of “Bed of roses”_ …A lousy attempt of a joke to bury the hurt Jon’s suffering inflicted in her. A hurt that made no sense. It was normal to feel sorry for him, but to cry? To actually feel her heart breaking for the death of a friendship she didn’t know much? ‘Cause what the hell did she know? _That a friend’s betrayal shouldn’t bring you on the verge of dying of a broken heart._ She shook her head and sighed _._ It made no sense _. There is nothing rational in feeling hurt…Carry on now!_ She turned on her heels and walked out of the room. She poured the leftover wine in the glass and unlocked her phone.  
 _I’m sorry about today_. _Girls night on Sunday in Athens?_ She wrote to her friend. Maybe it won’t be bad to follow her own advice and let her know she was aware she had acted like a drama queen. And for what? For a stupid recording! That was her friend’s only mistake. That she had sent it to Martin. All that followed was her responsibility, not others.  
 _Hell yeah! I’m awake at 4 in the morning! Need a break from the baby! But just to be clear, I’m the only one allowed to whine about her life!_  
 _Deal!_  
 _Btw, I’m sorry too…_  
She put the phone down with a smile and drank the wine then started to gather her things. Her plane was due in a few hours.  
  
He knew he was alive only because everything in his body ached. An impromptu jackhammers concert was held in his head, his eyelids refused to uncover more than half of his eyes, his stomach revolved on a different speed than the Earth’s and threatened to go inside out at the next spin. He tried to take a deep breath but that made him feel even worse. _How the hell did I do this shit for a living? All that’s missing…_ Despite the obvious objections of his body, he turned with a growl to look at the other half of the bed. Empty! No sign of a sleeping body. _Thank God!_ He sank in the pillows and put his hands over his forehead and eyes while last night’s scenes were being rewound in his mind. He couldn’t remember what his initial plan had been though. _It doesn’t matter anymore, she turned the whole thing to your good again._ And speaking of her, where the hell was she? With very slow and calculated moves he pulled the blanket off… _Why was a blanket in the first place?_ and put his feet on the ground before standing. _No shoes?!_ He went to the bathroom door and knocked. No response. No sign of luggage around him. He moved to the other room, moaning at each step. No glass on the floor only the stain from the wine. She was not there. He tried to remember when her flight was supposed to take off, but he realized he had no clue what time it was. He had no watch and no phone with him. _Shit! And I’ve bitched everyone yesterday about how I wanna leave on the first sign of good weather._ It was time to storm out of that room and go grab his damn phone. But only the idea of moving was making him sick, so instead, he took a seat on the couch. While doing that his attention was caught by something that was on the coffee table on his right. _A glass of water, 2 aspirins, and a…note?_ He reached for the piece of paper and took it.  
 _“No goodbye. See you soon.”_ was written with what seemed to be red lipstick.  
He started to laugh, but the sudden sensation of vomit put an end to his feel-good moment.  
\- Oh, kid…He shook his head.  
 _Nope, that wasn’t good either!_  
He reached once again to the table and took the pills and the water and happily chugged them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Mel translates and recites is a real Romanian song. I went to see a friend of mine playing in a club and she surprised me with this one. It is called Former Love and maybe I had too many beers or something, but I felt it fitted this story just right.


	15. Chapter 15

Almost one year had passed since she had first found herself at the door of the studio yet it felt like it had been yesterday. A yesterday from another life, if that made any sense. It was something surreal that surrounded her memories from the time she had spent there and the non-negligible amount of consumed wine was not necessarily the one to blame for that feeling. It felt almost like a dream, all the more so because the movie and the songs proved to be quite a hit. Especially the songs. It was impossible to turn on the radio and not hear something from the soundtrack. Not in a million years she would have imagined that one day plenty of alcohol and alignment of stars would no longer be required for someone to hear her singing. It was absurd to think those songs could go under the radar, it was not even desirable, but in a world where it was enough for BTS to sneeze to install on top of the charts and bury in oblivion anything else, it was quite impressive that they had come up with some old fashioned music that could spark interest not only in the Bon Jovi fandom. Long-time fans, occasional listeners or kids who knew nothing about him or his band, they all had found something appealing in that soundtrack, if not all of it. As time went by, people got more and more curious about how those songs had taken life. “The movie was the source of inspiration” did not please anyone anymore. They wanted the ins and outs, more of the ins, and they wanted to know why her name appeared more than once on the album. _Because he’s a stubborn ass,_ she had been about to say one time. It was not even a lie. He had been a stubborn, OK not really ass, but stubborn nonetheless, and had not agreed to let her out of the credits. _You let out a whole Bon Jovi album without a word about who did what, why is so fucking hard to skip my name for this one?_ He hadn’t even bothered to answer and, for a short time, she had thought he might listen to her. She had been wrong. He had done exactly what he wanted and now they both had to face the consequences. At first, it hadn’t been so bad, but now, with two songs racing for number one, things had changed.  
They hadn’t seen each other in the last two months, since the world premiere in New York, shortly after that stormy night in London, but they had kept in touch. Sort of. It had been more like an indirect dialogue through interviews. He said something, then she had to say something, and so on, and so forth. She glanced over the magazine in her hands. She hadn’t bought a magazine in years, but this one she had to have just so she’d be able to kick him with it someday. It was a childish urge, she wasn’t too proud of her instincts, but oh, she could cool off only at the thought of the action.  
 _\- Speaking of Mel, how was working with her? Were you nervous?_  
Mel puffed as she ended reading that question.  
 _-_ Good luck with making him admit he’s nervous when he really is.  
It was a funny, endearing particularity that she had discovered about him. He had no problem saying he was nervous when he was not at all, but you could torture him and he would admit he was when it was the case.   
_\- Not really nervous, but it was rather weird knowing my youngest son loves her action movies. I felt I would destroy his image of her._  
 _\- Did you?_  
 _\- I don’t know. He doesn’t speak to me anymore! I’m just kidding! I don’t think any of my kids_  
 _saw or are going to see the movie any time soon. But speaking of working with Mel, it was fun, we had a blast on the set._  
 _\- And in the studio?_  
 _\- That should be a movie about that! You see, Martin had some fixed ideas. He wanted me to be Nathan and to write the songs and wanted Mel as Ava and to sing for real. The problem was his ideas were clashing with one of her two guidelines: no titties and no singing._  
 _\- That’s true. She always said that. But why did Martin want her to sing in the first place?_  
 _\- Because he had heard her and nothing could convince him that she was not able to do it. Not even the fact she was not singing at all, let alone almost a whole minute._  
 _\- Did you convince her?_  
He tricked me with wine. Does it count as convincing? Mel silently bitched, not at his answers, but at the question. She was tired of all those insinuations.   
_\- I can’t say that. It was not a matter of convincing. She came to my place to explain to me her vision of the stories the songs should tell. Martin trusted her on that and I’m all about telling a story. She was supposed to stay for 2-3 days and she ended up going home after almost three weeks._  
 _\- That is some extension._  
 _\- It is. We had to figure out, I mean I had to figure out how to extract from her not only the story, that she could tell me easily, but how she wanted the story to be told. She doesn’t play an instrument, well, she doesn’t know how to put her ideas on notes, ‘cause she can play some, and I had to be ...I had to be a translator, so to speak._  
Humble bragging much? She blew out a half annoyed breath. Why was he trying to give her more credit than she deserved? She had come up with some lyrics and, sure, she had had one or two good ideas regarding an aspect or another, but he was the one that had transformed words, ideas and moves into songs. Well, he and the rest of the people who had worked with them. People who knew what music was, not like her.   
_\- And how did you do that?_  
That was a damn good question!  
 _\- I have to keep the secret because these songs are really good and I don’t want someone to steal my hard work and my methods._  
 _He smiles._  
 _\- No, but seriously, it was no easy job. What helped a lot was that we clicked. We were on the same page somehow._  
 _\- You have good chemistry. A lot of it._  
 _\- That was acting more than chemistry. In real life, we are two people that should not have too much in common. We have different backgrounds, our life experiences are not the same, we are not the same age, we don’t live on the same continent, and yet…_  
And yet, in similar situations, they’ve reacted in similar ways throughout their lives. And yet, for no good reason at all, she could move in a certain way and he would come up with the right notes and rhythm to accompany her, he could say a word and she would add three more to perfectly complete a line. If she were to make a statistic, there hadn’t been so many moments like that. Most of the time they had politely bickered about everything. Debating. Negotiating. Was that how songwriting was supposed to be? She didn’t know. Yiannis never fought with anyone while working, but again he was not in a band and he was not much of a songwriter. He had written a few, for himself, for a theatre piece or movies, but he was mostly an interpreter. Even when he was rehearsing with a bunch of instrumentalists, good and old-time friends actually, or when they were rearranging old songs, they never had disagreements. At least she had never witnessed one and Yiannis never mentioned one either. It was all about a mutual respect. At the time she was living with the boys in America, they were not that involved in the process. If they did something, it was for individual projects and that sparked another kind of conflict. So, yeah, she didn’t know how things should normally work, if a normal accepted routine existed. What she knew was that constant state of questioning themselves or one another led them to a more than nice end. And that on a few key moments, whatever they had done had come close to feel like real magic.  
\- … _and yet we made a good team together. I can tell you this. She is an amazing actress and a more amazing person._  
 _\- Is she a crawl-for or a not-crawl-for woman?_  
Mel could not maintain a straight face reading that and imagining Jon’s first reaction. He must have been at least startled, before he could partially compose himself. The straight forward question had massacred the hell out of his diplomacy. He had tried, she could not say he hadn’t done so, to keep his answers as much as professional as their true relationship permitted, but the lady who interviewed him was determined to draw from him any hint of something more. She was not ill-intentioned, but just like many others who loved the movie, she had fallen in the trap of wanting Nathan and Ava’s story to have some sort of happy end. A continuation off-screen, if on-screen was not possible.  
 _\- Didn’t you see the movie? She definitely has the power to make men crawl for her._  
 _\- Does she keep this power in real life?_  
 _\- Probably. But I wouldn’t do it…_  
If only he had stopped there, what an appropriate answer would have been.  
 _\- If I learned one thing about her in the past year, that would be she likes men to walk tall, not on all four._  
And…welcome back, ambiguity!   
_\- Let’s talk about the songs._  
 _\- It’s about time._  
 _\- Blood on my guitar was supposed to be the hit, however, a song that is played as a whole only at the closing credits has almost stolen the show._  
 _\- So I’ve heard._  
 _He smiles._  
 _\- Why do we get to hear it only at the end?_  
 _\- That was not my decision. To quote Mel, there’s no place for a proper song. The closing credits were the best I could do for that song, which was not even supposed to be one. There was no need for one as Nathan has never completed it. But in reality, we did it… a couple of times._  
 _\- How come?_  
 _\- I wanted a finished song right from the start, so I did it, but what everybody hears now is not that version._  
 _\- No?_  
 _\- No. It was very different._  
 _\- I can’t imagine another version. This one is so haunting, even if you don’t see the movie, the images those words with that simple melody produce…_  
 _\- Yeah, I know. It turned out pretty good. What happened with this song, more than with the others, is we had to admit that things we didn’t like or want were actually right for it. I just had to admit that more often than Mel._  
 _\- That doesn’t sound like something you do usually._  
 _He laughs._  
 _\- True. But, in the end, she was the boss. I had to. I’m just joking…Really, it was nothing like that. However, I can’t precisely tell how she won most of our disagreements. Her charms or her position of power were not involved, just to be clear._  
Great! You had to insinuate the one thing that had been missed until now. She chuckled as she realized her body won her a lyric or two, but not in the implied way.  
 _\- Let’s return to the theme of this movie. First, there were scars on the guitar, and now there’s blood._  
 _\- You’re comparing two very distinct things. Scars is a Bon Jovi song, it reflects my experiences, my relationship with the instrument. The other one, the title at least, depicts Mel’s interaction with the guitar. Funny thing, it is the same guitar. She had a rough encounter with her and I casually said, “Oh, there’s blood on my guitar” and she said, “That sums up the movie perfectly”._  
 _\- It does. Just like A song within, this one is very visual too. And the guitar part… I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen that scene or how many times I’ve listened to the song. The hurt, the pain and yet the tranquility in the music and the violence of Ava’s death are so diametrically opposed…It’s brilliant. I’m just assuming this is your work, not Mel’s!_  
 _\- It’s Phill’s capacity to endure Mel’s incapacity of saying what the hell she wanted from that part. She kept saying something is missing, even now if you ask her she will say that, and she came up with a strange idea. She asked a bunch of guitarists she knew or I knew to write a solo part. It was a little bit unfair, to be honest. They were given only basic info and an almost non-sense hint regarding an unintentionally provoked suffering._  
 _\- But that’s the whole beauty of that scene. Dean doesn’t know what he’s truly playing. I mean, it had always been a song about suffering, but not that kind of suffering._  
 _\- If you sensed that it means Mel has done her job right and did not torture Phill for nothing._  
The interview went on, but she closed the magazine.   
\- It’s something missing and you know it too, yet you made me look like I’m a maniac totally impossible to be pleased. Unfuckingbelieveable!   
She took a deep breath and finally pushed the doorknob. The familiarity of the place stopped her in her tracks after only two steps. It was all the same and yet it felt slightly different. Curious enough, the sensation she was walking on thin ice was still in its place, despite the fact there was no more ice to crack. _Wasn’t it?_  
\- Hey, you’ve finally made it! A happy Jon, a really happy Jon, was approaching her.   
She remained quiet and, when he was close enough, she slapped him in the chest with the magazine.   
_Yeap, it felt good!_  
Jon caught it before it fell down and looked at it.   
\- Oh, so I guess this time you really are mad at me!  
He was absolutely amused by her greeting.   
\- You promised me!  
\- Exactly what part pissed you off?   
He was poised to ask her as a joke if his refusal to crawl for her got on her nerves, but she responded too quickly.  
\- We agreed that what happened here would forever stay here.   
\- I didn't tell anything! For God's sake, Mel, I didn't write those songs by myself. You just have to deal with it! You didn’t want a hit, but you’ve made one, that is the truth. Everybody is asking about it.   
\- Oh, yeah, they do! And I have no fucking idea what to answer. You see, I shook my booty around him and inspiration hit him, it's not really what I should tell!  
Jon giggled and threw the magazine on a small table nearby.   
\- Listen, what do you say we start this meeting all over again and act like two people who are glad to see each other after some time?   
\- Are we? Mel raised an eyebrow.  
\- Aham, Jon agreed with just a mumble. He opened his arms in an invitation for a hug.   
\- You are suspiciously happy, Mel said but made the final step towards him. It was nice seeing him again and in such a good mood. Jon closed his arms around her and whispered in her ear, but mostly in her arranged hair.   
\- I missed you, kid!   
\- Well, I guess a tiny part of me missed you too. She slid her arms under his, resting her hands on his shoulders.   
Jon broke the hug and smiled.   
\- So tell me, how's Yiannis, how are the kids? Everything alright?   
\- Oh God! Don't get me started! You taught Alexis “House of the rising sun”, you egomaniac!   
After a moment of perplexity, Jon started to laugh.  
\- Did he really remember that? I didn’t even tell him the name of the song.  
\- He drove Yiannis crazy for months with his whining. In his pretty little head he had a vague memory of the song, but nothing about who had played it for him. My poor husband played every fucking song he knew and a tone of songs he didn’t know and nothing worked. About two weeks ago, I had the inspiration to ask him if he was sure daddy was the one who had sung it. Maybe it had been Don Pedro, maybe someone else who had been in the house…And then I said the magic word. Jon! I swear his eyes sparkled when he heard your name.  
\- And how the hell did you identify the song? Jon wanted to know. It could have been anything else.  
\- You told me that was the song that got your interest when you were a kid, remember? I gave it a shot.  
\- Oh, yeah, I did…he smiled as he remembered that moment. On that day, their little chase for the right chords for Ava had turned into two hours of lying on the floor, emptying the bottle of wine and passing the guitar from one to another and playing bits of songs they liked or just knew. So what’s the problem with that song? It’s a good one…  
\- The problem is, Mel cut him off, my sweet little boy wants to be you when he grows up!   
\- Me specifically? He asked with a bemused grimace before he returned to being totally amused.  
\- I have no clue why or how, but he knows you have that goddamn S on you and, for a while now, he thinks you are somehow related to the real Superman. Whoever he might be!  
\- Oh, wow! He managed to let out before laughter took over him.  
\- Yeah, I thought you might like this one…she mumbled.  
\- It’s usually when the adolescence hits them that they ditch you. Do I have to remind you on what cloud number 9 Romeo was when you took him to the Black Widow set? Plus, you have to admit, it is kinda funny! The ironic symmetry it’s outstanding! He smirked.   
\- It is…a bit…Mel bit her inner cheeks to prevent a smile. But…  
\- He’ll be just fine! Jon fatherly put his hands on her shoulders. Stop worrying so much!  
He understood what her problem was. It had nothing to do with him specifically. Like any other parent, she wanted the best for her kids and in her vision, this best did not include all the ugly side of fame. She had been protecting them from the media like a lioness for as long as she could and she was not ready to acknowledge her powers would only get wicker and wicker as the kids were following their own paths in life. It was not an easy thing to accept. He knew.  
\- His sister will kick anyone who would even think of approaching him! He joked.  
\- Uhm…speaking of her. She baked you some cookies…  
\- You brought me cookies? His eyes widened in a surprised, childish excitement.   
There it was again. That innocent shade of blue that she had only seen on that evening in Spain when he had agreed to change the songs. The lively, joyful spark had returned since then on a few occasions, sometimes with no precise trigger, but that innocence had never glimmered again. And how could it? The kid in him had long been gone. Her fingertips itched to follow in a light touch his arched eyebrows and maybe, just maybe ruffle a little his soft and now back-to-gray hair.   
\- I’ve left them in the kitchen. I hope your kids will eat them before you have the chance to get one!   
\- I didn’t know it was the last cookie! How many more times do I have to say this? Jon excused himself again for the domestic drama he had unintentionally ignited. Besides, he let her shoulders free, she doesn’t hold a grudge if she thought of me. Unless she put some poison in them…which I doubt! Because she’s six and she’s a lovely girl! You should learn about forgiveness from her…  
 _\- Why do you want to send Jon cookies, pitufo?_ Mel had asked her daughter one day before her departure.  
- _Because they will make him feel better…He’s sad_ , Cristina had said leaving her speechless and wondering what kind of old soul her daughter was. _And lonely…_ Mel had hugged her, completely taken aback by her words. Empathetic was not really an adjective that could accurately describe her little one, not when it came to strangers anyway, and yet she had sensed something that a lot of people hadn’t been able to. And she was determined to do something to help! Even it was a small thing like holding his hand or forgive him because he had eaten all her favorite cookies.  
\- _He’s not lonely, kardoula mou. He has a lovely family in America. They just couldn’t come with him when he did_ , she had assured her. Cristina had looked at her with big blue eyes, too knowledgeable for her age. Mel had kissed her forehead and had lovingly stroked her hair. _But he will love your cookies anyway! Let’s bake them!_  
\- Jon, what am I doing here? You could have asked me about my kids over the phone...Mel changed the subject. There was no need to tell him how psychic her daughter was.  
He turned on his heels and put some distance between them. Mel could not shrug off the feeling something was off with him and it was more than the fact the joyful spark in his eyes seemed to be constant.  
\- I need to discuss something with you and I didn't like the possibility of a cold rejection over the phone.   
\- Oh, you prefer to be rejected face to face. Brave!   
\- Awards season is coming soon.   
\- So?   
\- So timing is a problem and I've already been asked if I can perform on certain occasions.   
\- You want my blessing or what? Mel snorted.   
\- Would you stop pretending that you don't understand what I’m saying? He laughed.  
\- Would you stop delaying that big no you would get from me? Although I have no idea what you want to say, to be honest.   
\- Let's give people what they want!   
Mel narrowed her eyes in an attempt to find a meaning in his words. He could not be possibly asking that kind of thing from her.  
\- Dry County live at every concert? If he was asking what she thought he deserved an edgy answer. More guitar solos? A really edgy one. Original lead guitarist back on team? You have to...   
\- For fuck's sake, Mel! Jon threw his arms in the air in exasperation. This cat-and-mouse game, although fun, started to feel tiresome. Ava's song! People want to hear Ava's song!   
\- They should buy the soundtrack then. Or open YouTube or Spotify, it's that easy!   
\- You know you can call him by his name, right?   
\- No, no I can't! Mel responded out of reflex. The abruptness of the topic change left her perplexed.  
\- You have to at some point.   
_Why the heck was he smiling like a bad wolf at her?_   
She glanced around her, the answer to his behavior and of that strange feeling, almost palpable now, must have been somewhere near.   
\- No…I don't think I have to…   
\- Trust me on this, kid! Jon said and his smile got even wider if that was possible.   
\- You really are not a trustworthy person at this time!   
A bad muffled laugh made her concentrate her attention on another part of the room. Jon didn’t look away, he didn’t need to turn to know what was happening behind him. An amused “ups”, a faint squeak sound and he knew his chair, the one Mel had thought it was empty, had been turned. Completely frozen, she watched the intruder get up and walk near Jon.  
\- Hey! He said with a goofy-guilty smile.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In these times of utter madness, a little bit of wishful thinking. Kind of :)

Mel looked at them and didn't know what to do. Hell, she didn't know what to think. Was she dreaming? Hallucinating? Has she been teleported in a parallel universe? One in which the fact those men were in the same room was not breaking news headline material, just a daily fact? And was it OK the fangirl in her was acting like…well, like a fangirl? Jumping, and screaming and almost crying in happiness. _Do you know what else fangirls do? Faint!_ She wanted to throw an honest “Fuck you, Jon!”, but, with her last resources, the fangirl managed to mellow a little Mel’s outburst. Just a little.  
\- You’re an ass!  
Unlike her first visit there, this one looked a lot like a setup. An incomprehensible one. Jon seemed to think it was an Emmy winning scene, ‘cause he was enjoying to the fullest her starstruck moment. Or what the hell that was. Now she knew what was different in that room. The ghost had taken flash and the thin ice had gathered in a damn iceberg that had hit her full force.  
\- A fine one! He grinned.  
\- Ah, fuck off! The fangirl had been reduced to total silence.   
She waved her hand in the air, something between a bye-bye and go-off gesture that threw Jon in a round of laughter, and even turned a little like she was indeed about to head to the door. _I’m out of here! Wait! Shit!_ … She stopped halfway and let out a displeased breath. She remembered what she had told Tia she would do in case she would ever meet him. At that moment, when such a meeting was purely theoretical, it seemed a logical gesture, not very characteristic for her, but logic. Now, with the man being less than five steps away, she wasn’t sure how it seemed anymore. She let out another displeased breath. Overthinking such a small gesture would not help her in any way. She turned back, and with what looked like determined stride, but was in fact probably one of her shakiest walks ever, she came close to them. And hugged him.   
She thought he would be surprised and it would be an awkward one-way embrace, so her intention was to make it as short as possible. But as soon as her arms touched his back, his arms encompassed her and she found herself in a reciprocated gesture. Mel didn't know if he was just like that with everyone or he wanted to say something, but she surely wished it was the first option. When he finally let her go, a warm smile was painted on his lips and in his eyes.   
\- Hi, I'm Richie!   
_No shit_ , was the response that formed in her mind, a response she could give to Jon, but not to him.   
\- Mel, she simple said and Jon smiled at the sharp shift to "I’m nice, but distant” mode she used when she didn’t like the persons she had to interact with, or when she didn’t know what to expect from them because she didn’t know them, or, simply, when formal circumstances required it. He gave her a quick head-to-toes scan. With her boot cut black pants that seemed they had been sewed on her, a yellowish silky blouse, heels, hair up and tamed, make up on, she did not keep anything from the kid look he knew and held dear. She looked more like someone who had run out of a board council.  
\- I've been looking forward to meeting you.   
\- _I would say the same thing, but you were fucking everywhere_ , Mel thought. I can't imagine why, she smiled, but here I am.   
Richie let out a short lighthearted laugh.   
\- Because I wanted to see if you were real or not.   
To say she was confused would be an understatement. What did he mean if she was real? What had she done? Had Jon told him something about her? Had they kept in touch? _No, it was not possible._ Was the movie connected in some way? Was it something related to the soundtrack? Was it possible that that interview got him intrigued? Had Jon agreed to change the songs for a hidden reason? Or he just admitted that for a hidden one, as a weird response to Richie’s accusations? _OK, slow down, this is not a conspiracy theory._  
\- Jonny, Richie started with an amused tone, I think you might be in trouble.  
Mel was still trying to put her thoughts in order, thoughts that were currently moving light-speed to no avail, and she did not look very happy with the situation. Her furrowed eyebrows could be easily mistaken for anger by someone who didn’t know her. But Jon did know her and he was aware she had imagined a few ways her day would unfold and none came even close to the current scene. She was not angry per se, she was bewildered and a little annoyed at the extent of her bewilderment.  
\- No, man, we are cool! Jon said. Right, kid? He lightly fist-bumped her shoulder and got her out of that swirl of thoughts.  
\- Why do you call her kid?   
Mel started to laugh and Jon came to the conclusion it would have been wiser to restrain himself from calling her like that.   
\- I've been asking myself the same thing for the last months, Mel confessed.   
\- It's... complicated.  
\- And why haven’t you asked?   
\- Complicated, she reciprocated Jon’s answer. My hope is it doesn’t have a fucking capital letter, though…She mostly mumbled.  
The two men shared a look before starting to laugh and, for a split second, Mel could swear she had glimpsed an invisible, yet somehow palpable wire, between them.   
\- Oh, so this bit of trivia hasn’t escaped you! Jon said and she shrugged in response, more to get rid of that shadow that must have been only a product of her wishful thinking imagination.   
\- Anyway, I think there are some other questions that need an answer right now, Mel changed the subject and Jon was grateful, because he might have elucidated for himself why he called her like that, and her puffy hair was less than half of the answer, he knew that now unlike three months ago, but telling out load was still hard.   
\- Like what am I doing here? Richie smiled.   
\- Like what we are both doing here, but yeah, we should definitely start with you. She congratulated herself for not let any trace of passive-aggressiveness in her voice.   
\- I’ve told you. I really wanted to meet you. That song of yours that is everywhere is just so different from everything he has done in the last...what am I saying? It is nothing like him. I had to check a few times if it is his song for real. I didn’t want to see the movie, to be honest. It seemed so…so made for him.   
\- Oh, he’s just a victim of Martin’s imagination. He has other sins, this movie is not one.  
\- I kind of figured it out while watching it. I liked it.  
He hadn’t expected to like it. He hadn’t intended to watch it in the first place, actually, but he decided to give at a chance when his daughter told him she had seen it and enjoyed it. Despite her positive feedback, he had expected to see a mediocre movie. Or, maybe, he had only hoped it would be so. Chances were high, after all, it was no secret that Jon’s acting skills were questionable. Five minutes into the movie and he had to leave aside his assumptions. It started with a fucking good song and with a Jon he didn’t recognize. Sure, it did look like him, but it didn’t act like him. Most of the gestures he still knew by heart were not there. The bastard had managed to reinvent himself for the only role that would allow him to be how he was. The only role truly with his name on it and he had reinvented himself, God knew how, ‘cause he was not able to figure it out. Even his million-watt smile was slightly different. For a lot of people though, it hadn’t mattered that the whole cast of the band had nothing in common with their real-life counterparts. That there were no real-life counterparts, actually. There had been a constant buzz from the moment it had been made public what Jon was shooting and that buzz only had gotten bigger and bigger and bigger. And more complicated! That poor soul that had played Dean probably still had to answer some interesting questions and to face some even more interesting comparisons. Richie had laughed for a good twenty minutes when he had seen an interview on which he was saying that he had learned how to play the guitar just because he had been afraid of Jon’s reaction to his mimicking.   
\- I’ve seen it three times, he continued. Parts of it more than three.   
More like thirty, if he were to be honest, but it was not the time for that kind of honesty.  
\- God…Mel whispered, a faint start of embarrassment creeping up on her.  
\- Not those scenes! Richie laughed. I mean, they are nice and all, but…  
Although there was no use in denying those scenes were hot and very wisely shot, he had been interested in other aspects of the movie.  
\- His old ass is not really a turn on for me, he continued because he felt the need to say something funny and the necessity of keeping her equally naked body out of the discussion. She didn’t seem too keen to hear compliments for her body from a stranger. As a matter of fact, she seemed rather reticent to everything. Plus, whoever chose the names was a big fucking idiot.  
\- Not us! Both Mel and Jon shouted in unison.  
\- I tried to make Martin change his mind. On numerous occasions. The girls of one of my best friends are named Ava and Lyric Dean. Believe me, I didn’t feel comfortable with his choice of names! I don’t even wanna know how it was for you! She looked at Jon then glanced at Richie. Or for…you…But, as we all know, I’ve failed.   
\- Anyway, I was really hooked by the music. It’s fucking awesome! I just had to let him know that and I messaged him. To my surprise, he answered in seconds and not with a formal thank you.   
Mel looked at Jon with an obvious, partially amused, partially disappointed "still an idiot, huh?" in her eyes. He shrugged and smiled. There was a “Hey” written on his phone since he got on the plane heading home after that London delay. He had kept repeating to himself that he was too busy to start that conversation. A dummy excuse as there was always time to look at that unsent word and imagine a follow-up. On some days, the dialogue that followed was casual, almost normal. Like a silence strike had never interfered between them. On others, accusations stepped in quickly, blame and pain thrown from both sides. And on other days, the worst of them all, there was nothing. No reply. Not sending a basic greeting didn’t seem so dull then. It was for sure, it just didn’t feel so.   
\- I saw your name on the soundtrack and I asked him how much you really did. After a couple of days he sent me that interview I think you threw at him. It didn’t answer my questions, it only raised more. I've searched the whole internet twice and I couldn't find anything regarding your... music abilities.   
\- Because they are non-existent!  
Jon rolled his eyes to Mel’s amusement.  
\- I don't know how they are, because he refused to tell me how things worked between you two.   
\- Oh!   
\- Bet you didn't expect this one! Jon grinned.   
\- And I'm really curious. Especially after I heard something about shaking your booty!   
He wiggled his eyebrows at her before he could think better of the gesture. He should have gone for his first instinct and restrain from bringing her looks to the fore. His little joke had been abruptly dismissed by Mel.  
\- You heard nothing!   
The words came out way more harshly than she had intended and made Richie feel almost like a scolded schoolboy. _What exactly made people describe her as lovely, nice or funny?_ He had asked around and that had been the overall feedback. _Didn’t they know what those words meant anymore?_  
\- She won't tell you, Rich! But give her one bottle of wine and maybe she will show you!   
\- It worked only with you! Mel hissed.   
\- I'm joking for God's sake! And for the record, you did it for Tico too.  
\- That was completely different and you know it!   
She had first met Tico and David on her last day there before the one month break. She hadn’t danced for Tico. She was waiting for her lift to the airport and, for no reason at all, a salsa song was playing in her mind. She was keeping the rhythm thumping the arm of the chair with her fingers and Tico sensed that and started to play it on whatever drums he had found there. She stopped and said something in Spanish to which he responded. Jon didn’t notice them, he was too used to hear her speaking in Spanish by that time, but David inquiringly raised an eyebrow. Some rumba moves later from Mel’s part, and a very entertaining drum solo from Tico, the two had happy grins on their faces, while David had gone for a dumbfounded look.  
\- _The fuck is happening here, man?_ He had asked Jon.  
\- _Salsa album_ , he had responded like it was the most normal and evident thing in the world.  
\- I'm not getting any answer, huh? Richie broke their digression.   
\- So that’s it? Mel ignored Richie's indirect pleading. You are here because I am here? And vice versa? _They haven’t spoken for two years and they’ve decided I’m a good topic? They must be nuts…And I’m nuts for not kicking their asses and fly from here…_  
\- Not really, Jon said. He went to the little shelf behind him and took something. Here! A little present for you.   
\- What’s this? Mel reached out and took what it seemed like a CD from Jon's hands.   
A black and white cover, like a pencil drawing, picturing a messy-haired head of a girl with big headphones over her ears. Her eyes were looking down and she seemed lost in the music. It resembled her, but she wasn't. “No name songs” was written with simple black letters.   
\- The rest of your songs. Tico made the cover for you…just saying, Jon winked at her.  
\- My songs? Mel ignored again his references to her little Cuban influenced show.  
Jon nodded.   
\- They aren't really finished, but I doubt you’ll ever be back here to help me with them.   
Mel let out a little laugh. _Finally, some common-sense expectations._  
\- Can I hear them?   
\- You can do whatever you want with them.   
\- No, I mean, can I hear them now?   
\- Ah, sure! He smiled and went to turn on the music.  
Mel followed him but stopped in front of the acoustic guitar that was sitting in her place.  
\- She asked me about you a couple of times, he joked.   
\- Hello my former fingerprints, Mel giggled and lightly brushed over the strings making them ring.  
\- Do you play? Richie asked her.   
\- No, she answered, a strange smile passing over her lips.   
\- Seriously, what is the deal with you two? He snapped.   
\- Excuse me? Mel perfectly mimicked obliviousness.  
\- Come on, I haven’t asked for the origin of the Universe! It was a simple question…  
_Universe…Uniting the fundamental forces_ , Mel internally laughed at the geeky metaphor, although she couldn’t precisely name those forces, or what they were. Reading science had functioned as a sleeping aid only for a short, short time, years ago. It had been an infallible sleeping pill in class, in her bed, late in the night, it had proved to be simply interesting. _Gravity and something with magnetism and who the hell knows what the other two were? There were two more, right?_ She felt a sting of sorrow as two forces were standing near her, observable and palpable as can be, yet with an only theorized unification in the perspective, just like the universal ones. _It’s still none of your business…_   
\- You know, Jon described pretty accurately in that interview what had happened, she said and left aside the particle physics for dummies and its very mundane ramifications.  
\- No, he didn’t. Rough encounter? What the hell does "rough encounter" mean?  
\- No name 1, no name 2...very descriptive, Mel looked at the CD and ignored him once again.   
\- I have names for them, I even have some lyrics if you ever…  
The music filled the room, cutting off both Jon and Richie from saying what they wanted. Mel closed her eyes trying to transport herself in those rare moments when she and Jon had been alone in the room for real, with no one haunting no one.   
\- Huh! I actually remember this one. But I also remember you couldn't put it down in notes. How come...  
She turned again to face Jon, to find an answer to a question she couldn't finish. That Spanish, but not quite Spanish guitar that she had surely danced, but he had never quite understood, was there.   
\- Who's playing?   
\- What do you mean? Jon tried to maintain an innocent face, but it was damn hard when his whole being wanted to tell her all about it.   
\- This is not you. Or her! Mel pointed to the guitar. This is...   
She wasn't sure who was, but knew for sure he didn't figure out in the last months how to play out of his style. That was her little taunting, she added that pinch of spice in her moves that she knew he would never get right just to mess with him. She had never imagined it would haunt him to the point where... _Where what?_ She slowly turned to Richie, just to be greeted by a cocky smile. And a slight trace of sock buzzing in caramel eyes.   
\- I’ve told you you have to call him by his name, kid!   
Mel's eyes turned into dark poison, a change only Richie could see.  
\- Man, she just killed you in 15 different ways with only one look! Richie said with a combination of admiration, amusement and something close to dismay in his voice.  
\- I bet she did! Jon approved.  
He would not expect less from her.   
\- You didn’t answer my question!  
Ice cold gaze locked with ambushed blue as she inquired to be told what she wanted.  
\- The question that needs to be answered is different.   
\- Oh?  
\- Is this what you had in mind?   
\- It’s…pretty close. Pretty damn close.  
It probably sounded even better than she had imagined.  
\- Did you write it? Richie asked her.  
\- Write it? Mel let a nervous laugh out. Oh, God! She shook her head and turned to face Richie again. Is it you? She asked him with a mellower voice.   
\- Well, you got it right, it’s surely not that Jonny over there!  
\- I know it’s not him, but I’ve asked you something else.   
She tried her best not to sound patronizing, it was the last thing she wanted.  
\- Yeah, it’s me…Whatever he had wanted to say was lost in Mel’s sudden outburst.  
\- How the fuck?!   
Jon started to laugh when he saw Richie’s totally stunned face, although he resonated with Mel’s uncensored curiosity. Richie didn’t know anything about that song, if it had some meaning, an idea behind it or if it was just something that sounded good. He didn’t know Mel. That was the scariest part. Richie didn’t know her and yet he had completed her song correctly. He had expected Mel to be thrilled by that Spanish-like guitar, but he hadn’t imagined that was what she had had in mind. It seemed logical when he had heard it, yet he hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t felt it on that night in the pub and he hadn’t felt it later when there was only the memory of a dancing curly girl. But Richie had done it. So, yeah, “how the fuck?!” was an accurate question.  
\- Fingerpicking? Richie shrugged. Honestly, I have no idea what you’re asking.  
\- I’m sorry….I’m a little overwhelmed here. What did he do? Did he hum? Oh, Jon, don’t tell me you shook your booty around him…  
\- He didn’t do anything! What is with all this booty shaking? Richie glanced between Mel and Jon and none of them seem eager to answer him.  
\- What do you mean he didn’t do anything? He must have done something…Anything!  
\- He asked me what I think is missing and what you hear is my opinion.  
Mel jaw dropped. “How the fuck?!” was all she could think, but that had already been said loud and clear.  
\- Yeap, my thoughts exactly! Jon said and came near Mel.   
\- That is not only your opinion. That’s exactly what was missing!  
\- Glad that I helped? Richie still didn’t understand what all the big fuss was. Come on guys, what have your behinds to do with songwriting?  
He decided that if she didn’t know how to take a compliment was her problem, not his, so he went on.  
\- I mean, I know he can shake his and I only assume that yours moves even better, but really now!  
Mel wanted to joke a little about Richie’s assumptions on whose ass was better, but she thought the poor man had had enough of waiting in vain.  
\- Why it’s so important what my role has been? She asked but, to Richie’s relief, not waited for an actual answer. See, Jon? It would have been so much easier if you had listened to me and had left my name out. I couldn’t care less if…  
\- Yeah, that’s why you fought me, because you didn’t care! Jon snorted.  
\- I cared about the songs, not about praise! She sighed and carried on. Anyway, our silver boy here had a crazy idea that somehow worked and the truth is there is no logical explanation for what happened.   
Mel wondered how you can tell someone you’ve spun your ass into a soundtrack and sound serious. Sure, there were songs out there that had been written to perfectly fit a dance, it was not that weird for professional dancers to work with musicians in that way, but this was not the case with rock music. Unless Keith Richards didn’t have some fetish with Jagger’s moves, and Mel almost chuckled at the thought, it was not the case. So, how do you say it? Moreover, how do you tell that to someone who was pretty amazing at writing songs in the conventional way? _Why was her name on that album again?_   
\- I don’t play guitar or any other instruments, I barely can sing…  
\- Hmmm…upgrade, Jon mumbled.  
\- And I never ever thought about writing a song. It was not my job anyway, all I had to do was to guide him through the story of the movie. But things are never so simple as you think they are. With my constant fear of singing and his idea that I held the key to Ava’s song, we had been in a deadlock right from the start. Long story short, at some point, he changed the approach. Maybe I couldn’t sing or play, but why not dance?  
\- What? Richie looked at her distrustfully.  
\- That was my reaction too, Mel assured him. But it worked. Somehow he could hear my moves…  
\- Mel, you were lying on that damn couch, he gestured towards the infamous piece of furniture, and you were playing fucking chords in the air. I could have been deaf…  
\- She what?! Richie interrupted him.  
\- Yeah…well...Jon started an explanation.  
\- What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t do that…I don’t do that...Oh…  
Mel seemed to think of something for a moment, whilst she imperceptibly moved her left hand fingers.   
\- They are not really chords, Jon! She gave him the smile of someone who had just discovered how to prove him wrong.  
\- Oh, really? Then what the heck are they? Jon laughed. ‘Cause they sound pretty awesome as an intro for our movie.  
\- I don’t know what they are. And I remember exactly the day you came up with that intro. I had nothing to do with it. I was…  
\- As I said, you were lying on the couch with those headphones on your ears and you were fun to watch as you were slightly moving your legs and head and arms to whatever rhythm. Voluntary or not, your fingers shaped real chords.   
\- Sounds dreamy and all, but it’s a little far-fetched. A shape without strings and frets can be anything. In the best case scenario, it’s a range of chords, not a determined one for sure. Even I know that…  
\- So I picked one, Jon stopped her lecture. Intentions, proposals…you know how it goes, he grinned.  
\- Jeez! Mel puffed. She didn’t expect him to remember how she had described the perfect couple dance. To ever take it into account, even less.  
\- Well, I don’t know how it goes, but I’m starting to understand those rumors, Richie chimed in, absolutely fed up by the fact he was going nowhere with his investigation.  
A second of charged silence and then, to Richie’s surprise and Mel’s discontentment, Jon started to laugh.   
\- Why the heck are you laughing?   
\- Because I've realized I’m the only one here who doesn’t have doubts about who had slept with whom, he said still laughing.  
\- What do you mean? What doubts can she have?… Oh!… Richie looked at Mel who was fighting to not turn completely red. Why in the world would you think that?  
\- Same questions to you! She snapped back. Why is a rumor more believable than another?  
\- Uhm…Richie gesticulated what seemed an obvious answer.  
\- Ah, come on, Richie! Let the girl dream!  
\- I don’t dream of….What the fuck, Jon?! Mel prayed her make-up was good enough to cover her now burning cheeks.  
Another round of giggles had to pass before he was able to talk.  
\- No one slept with anyone, happy? _And none of you believes me_ , Jon sensed. Come on, let’s move on! So, Rich, you wanted to meet her. Did you get your answers?  
\- No! The only thing I get is more and more questions! At least tell me who you’ve kicked out!  
\- Kicked out? I haven’t kicked out anyone…Mel was truly confused by his question.  
\- And yet something you did, right? Someone had worked on those songs before you rejected them. And I assume that person or those people didn’t make it to the final round.  
\- I…I’m in complete dark. She never thought she had fought someone else but Jon.  
\- You don’t even need three guesses to get that right. One is enough! Jon said.  
Richie looked at him, eyes widen in surprise, followed by an appreciative smirk.  
\- Really?  
Jon shrugged and Richie moved his attention to Mel.  
\- How? His lips curled into a strange smile.  
What was the name of the guy she had met on that evening? She hadn’t paid him much attention at that time and she had never asked why he hadn’t shown up again. It wasn’t like she had considered him guilty for how the songs turned out. Chances were he was, but the blame had been cast entirely on Jon for letting that happen.  
\- Jon, help me a little here…  
\- How many members of my band can you name?  
\- Uhm…What the hell is this? A test? I’ve met the ones I can name, but if I concentrate enough, maybe I can get your bass player right. Maybe…she prolonged that word to gain some time. Hugh, it’s Hugh, right?  
\- Congrats, you’re officially the lousiest fan ever! Jon ironically congratulated her. But you’ve met one more.  
Mel’s eyebrows furrowed in a slightly comic way as, Jon assumed, she was counting the instruments and something did not add up.  
\- No...How he can be a member? What the hell is he doing?  
Richie burst into an uncontrollable laugh as Jon gave Mel a flopped attempt of his otherwise epic stink eye.   
\- Sorry…she muttered. Oh, wait!… From some dusty corner of her mind, a name popped to surface. A name and some trivia about a possible feud… That was Shanks?!  
Jon just nodded, while Richie was close to rolling on the floor in laughter.  
\- I didn’t kick him out, tho…I kinda wish I did it now…She slightly shrugged like she wanted to apologize for her second thoughts, but not quite.  
\- Mel…Jon cautioned her.  
\- What? She defended. It’s not really a secret that half of your fans… _would throw a big fucking party if he’d be gone_ … don’t appreciate him…much.  
\- And you are clearly one of them as you callously cut him out of “Blood on my guitar”!  
\- Come on, it was a mess! Mel pleaded for understanding. Could have been Hendrix’s reincarnation and I wouldn’t have agreed to let the song like that. And you can’t say I wasn’t right for doing so!  
She was more aware than Jon was, that he had accomplished a remarkable contradictory achievement with this album. _Why a band album and a solo project in the same year? What did he want to prove? Nice work, but why the big hits were on the latter? Didn’t the band deserve a number one?_ Comments on the almighty YouTube, she had read the only time she had watched the clip for “Blood on my guitar”. After that, she had sworn she would stay away for a long time from that source of meaningless bits of trivia and heavy, uncensored disgruntlement. Nothing to be missed there.  
Richie calmed himself down a little bit and cleared his throat.  
\- You did a good job, but that solo… could have been better…  
\- I know! Mel agreed enthusiastically.  
\- For fuck’s sake, don’t encourage her! Unless you wanna give it a try and play it, don’t encourage her!  
Richie opened his mouth to say something, but in the end, he didn’t say anything. There was no need to give it a try as numerous tries had been already played from the first time he had heard that song. “A song within” had taken him aback with a totally unexpected sound, first of all, because he had not expected their voices to blend that well. He had never been a huge fan of Jon singing with a girl, it just didn’t work for him. He was wandering around the house, nothing much to do on a lazy afternoon when he had heard it. _Hmmm, nice intro…like a knock on the door of someone’s memory._ That had been his first thought. Then Mel’s voice had come in and curled around his ankles pinning him in the middle of the room for the rest of the song. And then Jon’s voice had followed, but his had gone straight to Richie’s heart, no detours, no invitation and no indications needed. He had stayed there, panting and on the verge of tears for the whole song, feeling their voices running over and inside him, searching one for another, when it was so obvious they were never going to meet. _What the heck was that?_ He had asked himself minutes after the song had ended and he had not yet moved. The unusual warmth in Jon’s voice hadn’t receded from his brain for days, despite his avoidance of listening to that song again. When he had given it a second chance, his reaction had been equally powerful. That painful calmness, the nuances of something deep and hidden, had transported him in a dark and cheap hotel room when he was supposed to be asleep, but he wasn’t. It was in a time when they thought everything was about to get out of hand and they had no clue what proportion out of hand would get in the upcoming years. Even dramas were more simple back then. That was that song for him. A blurred acoustic memory brought to life. With “Blood on my guitar”, things had been different. It fitted the movie beautifully, but it fitted their lives, his and Jon’s, too. It wasn’t only about the “singing my life with his words” sensation the lyrics provided, it was the “strumming my pain with his fingers” one that didn’t let him off the hook. Except for the solo part, he wouldn’t change a thing in that song. How the hell did Jon do it? How did he write it without him being around, be it by himself or helped by others? There was Tico on the drums, and David on the piano, and Phill on the guitar and Mel’s name next to Jon’s on every place except vocals. There was no fucking answer. Only questions. How do you write a song when you don’t play anything? How do you change Jon’s mind to follow your vision? But more important, how the hell do you have that vision? Just how? _What did she have? What did she know? Who was she after all?_   
\- Anyway, Jon continued before Mel could say something that would inevitably make him say “you can call him by his name”, let’s move on from what it was and let’s concentrate on what it is. Mel…  
\- No!  
\- I haven’t said anything yet!   
\- You don’t have to!  
\- Please come on stage with me to sing Ava’s song. One time. You choose the event!  
\- Are you out of your mind?!  
\- Aren’t we past this phase? You definitely can sing this one. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think you can do it!  
\- Jon…come on! This is not a joke or a game. You want perfection up there or something that at least resembles perfection. In the worst-case scenario, you expect professionalism. Find someone to sing it with you. Or play it as you first recorded it, with the violin and all. It will be a nice addition to your Runaway tours or however you call them. The song deserves to be sung, you are right, but not by me.  
\- Why not by you? He insisted, although her suggestion, with the violin rendition, was unexpected and illogical after all the efforts she had put in removing that instrument from the song.   
\- Because…   
The true reason for her reticence should have been crystal clear for him, yet it seemed it wasn’t. She didn’t want to say it again, so she went with the second on the list.  
\- You know I follow your voice, right?  
\- So?   
\- So what if your voice cracks, huh? Because it is a possibility! What will I do then?   
\- It’s just one song. It won’t!  
\- How do you know?   
\- I just do, ok?   
What was with that persistence? It was not the kind of song that put him in trouble and, even if it was, the last good performances sustained his statement.  
\- We’ll rehearse it anyway and if you don’t like it, fine! I will never sing that song on stage, but let’s give it a try!  
Richie darted back and forth between them. _What the hell was he witnessing?_ If someone had come and said that Jon had been kidnapped by aliens and replaced with some good lookalike he would totally agree.  
\- It’s Ava’s song, Jon!… Her second-best reason didn’t seem to have a fighting chance. It’s not only about me singing on a stage, it’s about me singing that….  
\- I…  
\- Don’t you dare to say you’ll get me! Do you hear me? Mel warned him with a slightly unsteady voice.  
\- But I’ll be there and I will!  
\- It’s not your job to do that, goddammit! It was never your job!  
Sudden tears threatened to roll down and she fought her best to keep them unmoved from the corner of her eyes. That was the last thing she needed. Another crying session in front of him. Three totally meltdowns she had had in her entire life. Only three times she had let herself senseless in someone else’s arms. Three times, three different persons, almost the same reason. First time was when she had left America with no goodbyes. That time brought her a tattoo and a still burning hunger for something she could not name. Second time was when Brian wanted her and his voice back. That time brought her a husband and a home. Third time was when she had realized, when she had truly realized, what a song did to her, not to a character, but to her. And that time had brought her what? Rumors about cheating and trouble. That time had brought her an “I got you” that rumbled through her body more than she wanted. The worst part of all was that that time had brought her a man who had no clue what he had done for her. Or to her.  
Jon looked at her closed fists, nails biting flesh and finally understood what that strange vibe in her caresses from that night was. While she had struggled to not take someone’s place in his life, even if it was an empty spot, he had had no shame or mercy in kicking the hell out of its place her husband, or Brian, or some former lover, or who the hell she had wanted in that place he was occupying now.   
\- Kid…He made a step towards her, but Mel took one back.  
\- Don’t! she stopped him and Jon complied keeping the distance.  
\- Sometimes what we need it’s not what we want. And what we want it’s not always what we need. Look, I’m sorry I’m me, OK?   
Richie almost let out an incredulously “What?!”, while Mel looked at him in utter surprise.   
_Did they hear him correctly?_  
\- And I’m sorry it’s me, I really do! But I can’t do anything about it and you can’t do anything about it. We are both in this! Do you think it was easier for me to accept that someone unexpected had the key to redemption? To a redemption I was not even looking for? Do you think I thought even for a moment when we first met with Martin that you’re not gonna be just my younger co-star? Do you think I didn’t have to crawl out of that trap of thinking there was nothing in this world that could bind us? I misjudged you, yes, I’ve lied when I said I didn’t, but then all those little things that make you…well you…kept kicking the hell out of my misjudging! I still have no name for what we have, but haven’t we accepted months ago that there is something? Why are you acting now like that was all in my head? Don’t you know what you and this album have brought me back? Jon’s voice broke. He looked at Mel with pleading eyes and waited for a reaction. Any kind of reaction.  
\- _Shit_ , Richie thought. _The hell with those rumors! These two have shared something that is far more intimate than a lousy bed!_ He looked at Jon who was slowly starting to reconsider everything he had lived in the past months just because she was refusing to talk. _Say something! Don’t you see you’re killing him?_ Richie realized he hadn’t felt that urge of protecting him in years. Many, many years. He really thought that was some dead and buried part of him.  
\- I do know, she finally spoke and Richie sighed in relief harder than Jon did. I just…I don’t understand how…or why…  
\- Well, I don’t understand either! But what’s the point in turning myself upside down for this? You will not transform in someone else and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna cut an arm, or some hair or even a fucking nail just to perfectly fit in your imaginary mold. So stop pushing me ‘cause I’m not going anywhere!   
Was that what she was doing? Was she desperately trying to move him in some other place, a known and unimportant place just to feel she had some degree of control? Why the hell was she so scared of the fact he was more than just some man she had to work with at some point in her life? Because he wasn’t able to define their relationship either? Why did she need a label anyway? Because she hadn’t expected to have room in her life, in her heart, for another significant person? Because she thought she had it all? Wasn’t that a lesson that should have been already learned? Just because Yiannis had proved to be her demons’ whisperer that didn’t mean no one else could fight them. It hadn’t been Jon’s job to get her, true, but he had done it and Mel could not tell if that was what bothered her so much or it was the fact Jon was…well, Jon. If everything had remained between them maybe it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But it hadn’t, because there was this witch hunt to find him some mistress, the more scandal, the better. She was far from being a stranger to gossips, but that was such a cliché it made her sick. Her bruised soul had been exposed to anyone out there and all people cared about was that she was snuggling in Jon Bon Jovi’s arms. Jon Bon Fucking Jovi’s arms! He had offered his shoulder for her to cry on and people acted like she had put her legs on it instead. Being hurt had been transformed into a dirty rumor just because he was who he was - and, maybe, because she was who she was - and she hated feeling more dirty and guilty than she was already feeling. But she didn’t hate him, in fact, she cared deeply for him, and it was time to stop blaming herself for that. He was her cliché, and she was his. He hadn’t signed up for the classical illicit Hollywoodian liaison either.  
\- It’s not fair, Jon! I sent back home the same man. A little ruffled maybe, but the same. Your wife doesn’t get to bed next to a stranger every night. My husband does that!   
\- _Same man, my ass!_ Richie thought to himself.  
\- It’s all in your head! Your husband knew what laid inside you. You were the one who didn’t! Let me offer you this! Maybe at some point in your life you will be able to go out on a stage willingly, but how many soundtracks do you plan to write in the future? And how many songs will be so deeply yours? We may call it Ava’s song, but we both know it’s yours and it has always been so.   
\- Why are you doing this?  
\- Because I owe you, he smiled.  
\- I think you are a little confused about how this “I owe you, you owe me” works.  
\- Don’t fall for his sweet talk! Richie interrupted them. He will freak out at the first sign of something not going as he had planned it in his head and if you will not be able to understand what he wants, you’re screwed. He thought it would be wise from his part to save her, or at least warn her, because it was clear she was starting to give in.  
\- Richie…Jon hissed.  
\- Oh, I know that! I know that all too well! Mel assured him. And I can promise you this. On the very first second I’ll see your pretty blue eyes widening in discontent and your mouth opening to shout at me some words I can’t understand, I’m gonna snatch the guitar from your hands and I’ll make you a collar out of it! And I don’t care which guitar will happen to be, just to be clear!  
Richie laughed as he imagined the whole scene. He actually used to like that soundcheck freaked out Jon, especially when there was no need for him to freak out. But that was how Jon functioned and, over the years, he had developed a sixth sense of knowing what dose of humor to use to defuse the atmosphere and soothe the ball of nerves Jon could become. He even took a bit of pride in having that power. Until he never seemed to get the dose or the time right, until it hadn’t been the case anymore. _Why was he thinking of the past now, good or bad? And how the hell did she know his eyes grew bigger, and not directly smaller when he realized that what was in his mind was not matching the reality?_  
\- Don’t need to snatch anything. The guitar will be in your hands from the start.  
\- OK, now I know for sure you had a stroke! You should see a doctor! Soon!  
\- You said you’re not playing…Richie looked at her in confusion.  
\- I’m not! He’s out of his mind, I’m telling you! We should rush him to a hospital…if we care about him…you know…  
\- I’m fine! Don’t need to worry about me! He glanced between Mel and Richie and could not help a little smile as he saw the older man’s baffled figure which for a brief second had screamed “What do you mean if we care about him? Don’t we?! Don’t you?!” Kid, come on, you can play that fucking mariachi song with your eyes closed sitting on your back while drunk and you are afraid of three notes and a not so complicated rhythm?  
\- She can do what? Richie was slowly getting lost between so many “I can’t play” and “Oh, but you do”.  
\- That was a classic Spanish piece, not a mariachi song! And it’s the result of many years of practicing!  
\- You better start exercising then!  
\- I have a fucking scar on my forefinger because I left my DNA on your guitar!   
Richie, who had gotten near her, caught her left hand and brushed his thumb over her fingertips.   
\- Look at that! It really was a rough encounter!  
\- Eh, you’re DNA, my DNA, and look what beautiful babies we’ve made! Jon said with his slick smile that was not empty of meaning anymore.  
Mel opened her mouth to say something, but her brain was having a hard time coping with Richie’s touch, Jon’s smile and some flash images of how babies were actually made. In addition, the fangirl had been revived and was having the time of her life singing “ _take my hand, we’ll make it I swear, oh…_ ” Oh, shut the fuck up! One second of silence, before the song changed to “ _Gettin' down with Richie and Jon_ ” and she had to bite her inner cheeks to stop from giggling like a schoolgirl. A very naughty schoolgirl who had discovered the answer to the cruise question was not singular, not simple and could probably count as a wicked fetish. Luckily, it involved a time machine. _Time machine?! I don’t need a time machine! I make do with…_  
\- Joder!…she silenced again the fangirl and shook her head in light, mostly faked disappointment, both for her inner thoughts and for Jon’s humor. Where was this twinkly Jon when I first met you? She queried him and regretted the second after because she already knew the answer.   
\- I thought that was clear, he barely smiled. Lost. It was lost…  
Even if there was no hint of accusation in it, that word had the power to suck out the air out of the room instantly. The already charged atmosphere got a gloomy feeling and Richie stopped his caress, involuntary tightening his fingers around Mel’s. With a heavy heart, she turned her gaze on Richie, who was not able or eager to face Jon.  
\- I can’t do this, Jonny! She heard him saying and hoped in vain that Jon didn’t catch that.  
_Shit!…Fucking shit!… I shouldn’t be here! These idiots haven’t discussed a bloody thing!_ … She tried to release her hand from his grip, but the only result was that his fingers bit her flesh even harder. He needed something to hold on to and she just happened to be there. _Damn you, Sambora!_  
\- Do what? Jon deeply breathed before he continued. I didn’t ask you anything…Except for Mel’s song… I’m…  
\- The song part was nice…he mumbled. There was something in that syncopated rhythm that comes along from time to time that asked for Spanish flavor…Just so you know…Richie gave her an explanation and a sad smile. Mel knew at that moment that she and Jon could make a live demonstration for him and it would be pointless. He would not get the answer he was looking for. Maybe no one had the answer he was looking for. She tilted her head on one side and pinched her lips together, knowing for sure that if she was going to say something they would take advantage of it and would avoid a dialogue. Or a fight.   
\- It wasn’t a trap, Rich! Jon apologized for something he hadn’t done.  
_No..._ It was more her experience than her intuition that gave her a glimpse of how things were about to go down. She had been through that before and not as a bystander, hadn’t she? _It’s not the same,_ she tried to convince herself, but Richie’s last look on her, before he turned his gaze away to nowhere in particular, made her attempt pointless. It was not the same, but it was not that different either.  
\- So why does it seem like one? He threw all the sarcasm he was capable of right then in those words and his fingers tightened even more around hers, if that was possible.  
\- _What are you doing, idiot?!_ She didn’t even know to whom she wanted to shout that for real.  
\- Look, I’m…I…Would you turn around? I don’t know what to say to your back! Jon tried to joke a little.  
\- I can’t face you, Jonny! I’ve told you! I can’t do this!  
Mel was certain her bones would crack soon if he continued to squeeze her hand like that. His behavior was so obviously contradictory to her and she didn’t know if to wish for Jon to realize that too or not.  
\- Do what, for fuck’s sake? What are you talking about? Jon’s voice raised a little, but not as much as Richie had hoped so.  
\- I don’t have to give you explanations anymore! _This! This will get him mad!_  
\- I know…  
\- _The fuck?!?! Why is he not in raging mode already?_ It was all a mistake! I should go! He tried his best to maintain a cold and accusatory tone.  
\- If that’s what you want…  
\- _Seriously, what the fuck?!_ I can’t do this...he said in a shaky low voice this time and exhaled heavily.   
\- Do what? Jon asked him again calmly and Mel had to force her eyes to stay open for a few seconds because if she had blinked, tears could not be stopped from rolling down. She had caressed him! With that hand that was now crushed by Richie’s, she had caressed him! She had seen once those ugly fractures of his heart, there was no need to see them again. There was no need to witness that again! _I should have punched you, not hug you, you bastard!_  
Richie shook his head, ‘cause he didn’t know what to say or do anymore.   
\- I just can’t…he repeated foolishly.   
\- Please look at me! Jon said and Richie didn’t understand why that sounded so close to begging and so far away from a demand.  
\- I know what I’ll see when I’ll look at you…and I don’t want that…  
\- I’m not what I used to be, but come on! I’m not that bad…Jon joked with his last resources.   
\- I’m the one with the jokes in inappropriate moments, Richie managed to bring back the sarcasm in his voice.  
\- Yes, but you’re not here anymore…  
Unfortunately for him, Jon lacked any trace of it. In Jon’s voice there was only sorrow, not a bit of blame, not a bit of anger, just simple sorrow. It didn’t make for a good reproach that way and it took Richie all his strength to ignore that and use the tone-deprived words against the younger man.  
\- That! I don’t need that in my life!  
\- Fine…Jon sighed. But please turn around so I can say a proper goodbye to you…  
\- _I need to get out of here! Now!_ Every breath became a struggle for Mel. She was going to collapse soon and suffocate from the pain she was feeling in her chest. _Just let go of my hand…please let go of my hand_ …She looked up imploring any divinity was disposed to listen to her to make some miracle and take her away from there.  
Richie clenched his teeth, trying to regroup after Jon’s knock-out-like words. _What was a goodbye good for? It didn’t change much._  
\- No! I can’t leave again with the disappointment in your eyes haunting me. I…Richie’s voice broke.   
\- Disappointment? Jon murmured.  
\- That’s what I’ve done in the last what? Thirteen years if not more? Constantly disappointing you?  
\- What are you…  
\- Taking wrong step after wrong step? Richie continued, fighting back to some degree of success his imminent tears. I couldn’t take it anymore, Jonny! At every stumble you were there, judging me, scolding me, caring about what others had to say more than you cared about what I was feeling! Always caring to not stain your good boy image with my imperfect choices! Who could keep up with you? You, with the perfect image, perfect marriage, perfect family, always going for the safe and correct route, always demanding the same from others!   
\- Perfect?! What’s perfect about…  
\- Who do you think you’re fooling? He sneered. Who are you to give others lectures? You’re no better, after all! He turned to Mel, not completely to fully face her, because he could not look into her eyes and deliberately bring her into a mess she had nothing to do with. His chin was raised a little like he wanted to pinpoint to her and look down at her at the same time. It was a low blow from his part, but what other alternative did he have?   
\- Hey! Don’t…Jon started a sentence for the umpteenth time and, for the umpteenth time, he didn’t go through with it. He looked at Mel, who had clearly not missed what Richie had said, but to his surprise, instead of encouraging him to take some action, she stopped him from a harsh reaction. She was on the brink of tears and, judging by Richie’s closed fists, possibly hurting from his involuntary grip. Why didn’t she push him away, physically or verbally or both? He felt he might know the answer, but before he could become aware of it, Richie started talking again.  
\- Do you need reasons, Jonny?   
He didn’t know from where that question was coming and why a sudden fury had built strong enough in him to come out like that.  
\- Why? No reason will ever be good or enough for you if it stays in your way! I’ve said what I had to say a long time ago.  
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
\- And I let you be…I…his voice trembled under another unexpected debouched emotion. I wasn’t good for you anymore…  
He had started by blaming Jon and he was slowly taking a turn into blaming himself. The “I” took the guilt from “you”.  
\- So what bad could one last disappointment do? Right? Just like you rip off a band-aid. One pull and you are over…A little pain, but you are over…Right? Richie almost implored for an answer.  
He sounded like he had lost the battle with his tears. To Mel, he sounded miles and ages away. She saw Jon moving closer to them and put her free hand over her mouth to stop what she wanted to shout.  
\- _Don’t you fucking say it!_ Silently echoed in her hand and her eyes grew bigger in agony when Jon’s arms wrapped around Richie’s torso. _Don’t say it! Don’t say it!_  
\- I’m sorry! She heard Jon say, the words knocking the air out of her. Mel knew Jon hadn’t heard her on their last night in London. It was impossible. He was drunk, asleep and her words had never passed his external ear. That kind of thing only worked in movies or books. In real life, one had to forget about his own sorrow and forgive the one who was responsible for it. It took courage and a sort of love not many possessed.  
\- You are over it, right? Richie mumbled and freed her hand to place his over Jon’s. Right? He asked again.   
On how many times did he fool himself that Jon was fine, when every fiber of his body was telling him it was not the case? How had he been able to shut down all his instincts? How the hell could he be so delusional? How the hell did he convince himself of that?   
Jon put his face on the nape of Richie’s neck and squeezed him harder in his arms. They sighed as one, pain and guilt liquefying into a long-awaited touch. Mel took two steps back, stumbled on some piece of furniture and bit her lips to keep herself quiet. That must have been one of the most heartbreaking scenes she had ever seen. It was remarkable how even after all those years of separation, their beings still fitted one next to each other like two pieces of the same whole. That was the blessing and the curse of a soulmate. It didn’t care what you thought, or felt, or liked, or even wanted. It simply kept missing its half if it was not there. Panting and not taking her eyes of them, because she imagined her stare would stop them from do or say more, she managed to get to the door.  
\- Forgive me! Echoed in her ears as she stepped outside and she could not tell if it was Jon who had said those words or her memory. She collapsed on her knees and crouched with her arms tightened over her stomach. _Forgive me! Forgive me!…_ She punched the ground with her closed fists and clenched her teeth to stop the burning scream that wanted out. _What have you done? What have I done?_  
A constant reminder of her mistakes. No! A long and painful punishment for her mistakes. That was what the time spent near Jon had been to her. A well-deserved punishment, but not less torturing. _Look! Look at what you put Nick, and AJ, and Tia, and even Brian through! Look at how Yiannis could have been! Do you like what you see?_  
\- No…she murmured. _But…it’s not the same…._  
\- _Oh, yeah? And what’s the difference?_  
She had never intended to hurt Yiannis. But as she had told Jon, it was scary as fuck to let yourself loved. Scary and inestimable hard when there was a constant voice in your head, telling you that you are not good enough and, sooner or later, you’ll screw everything up irrevocable. So when her first unexpected pregnancy had ended up in a more unexpected miscarriage and she had seen the hurt in his eyes, she had taken the fault on her, although it was nobody’s fault. Her rational self knew that, but that was not enough. She couldn’t face his pain, she couldn’t brush off the guilt she felt and she couldn’t live with the constant fear that she was able to hurt him like that again in the future. So she had left. With no words and invoking stupid reasons when he had come for her. She had expected shouts and blaming and she had got apologies and open arms.   
\- And you thought it would be funny to have shared skeletons…Who’s laughing, huh? She gave herself a scold at the memory of her naughty thoughts about them.  
She rose to her feet and brushed off the dust from her pants with a swift hand movement. With the back of her left palm, she wiped out the few stubborn tears that had deceived all her act-tough tricks. _Why are you crying? Nothing can be changed now_ …She traced her thumb over her fingertips. A scar and tears. Her scar, his tears. She could still feel them. _It’s not the same! Maybe, but it is painful nonetheless and you are not immune to pain._ She took off her shoes, heels and grass were not a good combination and her runaway model days were over, and headed to the river. 


	17. Chapter 17

\- Hey, Cinderella! Mel felt Jon’s palms enveloping hers over the ropes of the swing. They were warm and made hers feel colder than she had registered they were up until that point. She didn’t know how much time had passed since she had left the studio, but judging by the low temperature of her body, it had been a while. She tilted her head back and looked up at him. He seemed a bit tired, the half-smile he was flashing at her could not cover the after-effects of the past hours.  
\- You were supposed to keep one so I can match them, you know?   
\- Maybe I didn’t want to be found, she straightened her neck and Jon moved to the swing on her right. She tightened her hands around the ropes to stop the shiver provoked by the sudden loss of the faint heat source of his body.  
\- Of course…What I was thinking? This princess doesn’t need to be saved.  
A hint of an amused “duh” emanated from his words and, for a second, Mel was poised to go on with his facetious charade. It was, after all, something they always did. In the end, she remained quiet, dismissing his attitude with her silence.  
\- You OK? He risked the question.  
\- I should ask you that.  
\- It wasn’t a trap, he avoided an answer.   
\- But it really looked like one…for me.  
\- "Surprise" is the word you should use. Not trap.  
\- You suck at this! She chuckled.  
\- Yeah…I kinda screwed this up, he sighed. A confrontation was not on my to-do list for today, believe me. And even if it was, you were not supposed to witness it. I’m sorry for that…  
\- Enough with the apologies! She cut him off harshly. _I can’t take it anymore!_  
\- Wow, Jon said after a moment of silence. And you suck at listening to your own words! You overlapped the shit out of our stories.  
\- What makes you say that? Can’t I just feel heartbroken for you with no personal matching?  
\- I don’t know. Can you? His tone suddenly lacked any kind of humor.  
Mel turned the swing 90 degrees so she could better see him. She didn’t have an answer. Despite all her efforts, she had never managed to have an objective view of his situation. They had been linked by a silly remark before they had met and the later events haven’t had the power to break that link. If anything, they had only made it stronger.   
\- Don’t burden yourself with my problems. You have your own complications to keep yourself busy for this life.  
He was almost sure there was more to her story than she had told him. It probably was another chapter, one on which Brian and his American troupe had a minor role, if any. And one on which he had no right to investigate.  
Mel slightly nodded, only halfway approving him, but totally on board with the underlying idea that they should let that topic aside.  
\- So…She was not sure what to ask him. Are you two good?  
\- I don’t know if I have an answer to that. I was wrong before, you know…  
\- Yeah…  
\- But right now I want to know if we are OK.  
\- Why wouldn’t we?   
\- Kid, come on! I shouldn’t have cornered you like that. I mean…For God’s sake, I knew…I know what that song means to you and I know some songs are never meant to be sung on a stage, no matter how good they are. So…if…  
Mel let a ghostlike smile pass over her lips. The “can’t seem to find my words” Jon could be absolutely delightful to watch.  
\- We are just fine, she said, leaving the decision about what she was disposed to do hanging in the air.   
Jon nodded, accepting her reluctance. She let the swing take its normal position and silence fell between them. He stretched his legs and was about to lift them up of the ground to let the swing sway him a little, when Mel started to talk.   
\- I never cried, you know?   
He flexed his legs to stop the never-started movement and brought the swing in its pause position.  
\- Hmmm? He murmured, not sure if it was the case to say more.   
\- In 23 years I never shed a tear whenever I changed, lost or found families. It’s not that I forced myself not to…I just lacked the need. And I started believing that I’m just like that…A little bit of a sociopath or something. Before we shoot the scene with Ava, I was only freaked out by the singing part. And then the camera went on, I started to sing and I simply forgot where I was. Somehow it was winter and I was 13 again. It all came back to me. I never lacked the need to cry…I…I guess…  
\- You were too hurt to cry, Jon came to her rescue.  
\- Something like that, she quietly said and turned her head to him.  
\- Look, you really don’t have to give me more explanations.   
\- I’m not doing that, she puffed amusedly. I’m trying to thank you, actually.  
\- Thank me? Jon frowned in confusion. All I did was to offer you a shoulder to cry on. And you’re still not happy it was my shoulder, in particular.  
\- Your shoulder is as good as any other shoulder, Mel assured him and herself. Anyway, that’s not what I wanna thank you for.   
Jon’s eyebrows arched in a silent question.  
\- I think it would have been just a regular scene if the song had been different. But you’ve forced me to be part of it, not only to find what I want in it, but to actually be in it, and that allowed me to finally come to a closure with my family saga. One last demon to fight…  
\- This will destroy your romantic image, but I did it because I had no idea what that song should be about. You held the key to it. It was obvious right from the start.  
\- It was obvious to you…  
What she really wanted to say was “it was obvious only to you” and Jon wondered how come he had never realized that was not a simple thing. The core of the song was something so carefully hidden, it was a miracle it had been observed, let alone undercover. It became clear to him now that his lack of inspiration had nothing to do with his conviction that Ava’s song had to be hers. He had maintained a solid grip on that belief, not because he wanted the job done, but because something inside him, may it be intuition or not, had sensed her need, her struggles. Her demons... _I’m offering you some help to win the war…_ If only he had known back then what words of wisdom those were and what kind of truth they carried with them. She wasn’t an open book for anybody and he liked to believe he was not one either, but what they had done had nothing to do with reading each other. It had been more like an observation. “Hey, I know that lock!” or “Damn, that knot looks familiar!” that had invariably led to “Shit! I hope that’s something else behind that fortress!” which rarely had proven true. It was obvious to you…  
It was his turn to shift his swing in a position from which he could face her.  
\- Not pronouncing Richie’s name, he began, it wasn’t just a game…  
Mel didn’t say anything, he was not looking for a confirmation.  
\- That comparison that still lingers in your mind…that was not what was stopping you either…  
\- You were a walking open wound, Jon! Mel sighed and put an end to his lineup of possible, yet partially wrong reasons.  
\- That was your fan theory?   
\- Unfortunately, that was reality.  
\- Truth to be told, I think I was worse than that.   
He lifted his feet and the swing twisted a few times until complete stop.  
\- I was a closed wound that got infected and was eating me from inside.   
\- Yeah, your description is more accurate, Mel gave him a sad smile.  
\- And you brought all the shiny, sharp blades that knew where and how to cut to let out all the pus…  
\- Not on purpose.  
\- Nothing from what we did was on purpose, he said and looked at her. That’s why it worked. Because let’s be honest, if we had forced anything on the other, we would have ended up strangers in the best-case scenario, not friends.  
\- Probably, Mel agreed.   
\- You know, when I look back, even our disagreements have a happy coat over them. I had fun with you. Seriously! Jon accentuated when he saw Mel ironically and distrustfully frowning at him. Despite our fights, it was nice having you here. And it was nice to write some songs knowing no one except the ones involved have a word to say about them. That interview you threw at me…This was what I was trying to say. I guess I have to stick to lyrics…  
\- Fuck no! Mel exclaimed and Jon started to laugh. Please, no song about me or inspired by me…or anything. I’ve had enough!  
\- My God…You would have chocked me with the roses! He ascertained.  
\- What roses?  
\- THE ones... from THE song…  
\- Oh, for fuck’s sake! You are incorrigible! Mel admonished him. And I wouldn’t have killed you…But I would have left you, she admitted her flawed pattern.  
\- And what’s the difference? Jon asked before he could think better of the words.  
It was a less than hypothetical scenario and yet, their supposedly casual lines hit both of them in vulnerable spots. They kept their eyes locked for one more second, like they wanted to apologize to each other, and then they both looked away, in silence. Mel braced herself and vigorously rubbed her arms to warm herself a little.  
\- I don’t have a jacket, but I brought your shoes. It’s better than being barefoot.  
Mel stood up without her usual intent to niggle or laugh about his fatherly attitude. She was feeling too cold for that.   
\- Jon, she said when she was about to put on the second one, what the hell happened between you two?  
There it was. The million dollars question. The question he had been so sick off in the last years, the question that had given him nightmares regardless if he was sleeping or not, the question that made him hate interviews, shows and any kind of public appearance for a few years. The question that had gotten a lot of answers, but not the answer, because there was no simple one to be given. The question she could have asked on so many occasions by now and the question he had started to believe would never hear from her. The question that was not only a question anymore, not coming from her, anyway. It sounded more like a statement full of regret. For him, for Richie, for her, for all of them. Regret and astonishment that whatever had happened had been possible to happen.  
\- Life, Jon said and prepared for Mel’s response.  
\- Man, leave this nicely wrapped up lines for media! She said and sat again in the swing.  
\- But it’s the only answer I have and fits, he smiled, because the reasons he shouted at me an hour ago are too phantasmagorical to count. You had a list of more plausible ones, to be honest.  
\- That’s because I wasn’t trying to make you angry so I could easily walk out from you…again.  
\- I have to take your word on that one.  
\- You’ve played this fucked up game with me in London, you’re no stranger to this.  
\- Yeah…I totally acted like an ass then. No excuses!  
\- Eh, it was fun up until one point.  
Again, there was a moment of charged silence between them.  
\- Do you know how he entered the band? Jon asked her and moved the discussion on from that topic.  
Mel slightly shook her head.  
\- Are you gonna make me feel guilty because I don’t know anything about your starting days?  
\- No, he smiled. My God, you were not even born…  
\- You already had this revelation.  
\- Yeah, but now I’m sober and it’s really horrible.  
\- Uh-huh, the horrible part is that I’m closer to 40 than to 30, she said and both laughed.  
\- He has always been determined, Jon started. I’m the kind of person you throw out the door and comes back through the window when I want something, but he is different. I don’t know how he does it, but it feels like no door has closed behind him. One day, he propped himself in front of me and, with all the confidence a man can have, he told me: “I’m gonna be your guitarist!”. And for the next 30 years I considered myself the luckiest bastard on planet Earth because he wanted that. What am I saying? I still am the luckiest bastard because he wanted that at that time. He believed in us, he believed in me. He believed in me more than I did and that’s not a small thing. Sometimes I think he was our biggest fan. He loved being in a band with a lead singer who was not afraid to be in the spotlight and who could charm filled up arenas, he did! And he did everything was up to him to make sure I could be that kind of frontman. He made everything look easy. Nothing was easy, but he had this contagious nonchalance…I was the one who was dealing with all the non-fun businesses, I was the one steering the band in one direction or another, but it’s easy to be a daredevil when you have a safety net. He was the one with the toughest job, because I can be all over the map sometimes. Most of the times, he puffed. At home, there was Dot, but on the road it was him. My brother, my best friend, my right hand, even soulmate if you want. All these were true. But above all, he was…he was my compass. And I still don’t know on which moment he stopped indicating North, because it was not sudden. You probably think I’m talking nonsense here, that I’m using geography as ramble or a decoy from the facts. I’m not! But I don’t know which events…or people to blame. The long tours and the accumulated fatigue and stress? Myself for letting that happen? His divorce? His ex-wife? His daughter because she needed him home as any other normal child did? Alcohol? All of us for not taking action earlier? Myself again and again and again? For not listening to him, for not paying the right amount of attention when I should have, for not noticing our fights over a lyric or a chord were not accompanied by that tiny glimmer of amusement in his eyes, for letting him feel not needed or wanted or, for fuck’s sake, good enough?! Good enough? He gritted his teeth.  
\- Jon…Mel whispered in a faint attempt to soothe him down. Maybe Richie’s accusations were phantasmagorical, but that didn’t mean they were not able to hurt like hell.  
\- How can someone who knew right from the beginning that he was more than just good enough turn into someone who feels useless? How do you turn someone like that? How did I do it? Yes, I admit I harangued him, but I was worried! What was I supposed to do? He acted like a child and hated being treated like one. My funny, warm, easy-going brother was slowly killing himself in front of my eyes. What was the correct way? Should I have joined him in his attempt? We are not fucking Romeo and Juliet! Maybe I should have stopped the tour, maybe I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but I couldn’t help myself. Bury yourself in work until your problems disappear. That’s me! Brave! Smart! Completely stupid if you ask me now. Problems never disappear, they only transform into bigger problems if there’s no one to solve them. And there was no one…Jon shook his head and sighed. It sounds like I’m blaming him and I’m not. I don’t want to blame him…What was his fault? That he got lost? From all that line up of reasons you told me in London, I think this is the winner. He got lost. And instead of that being a wake-up call for me, I got lost too. And then…we got lost. When he left…How was that song of yours? You left taking all that was yours…  
Jon looked at Mel for confirmation and she nodded because that was the only thing the lump in her throat allowed her to do. It was a miracle she wasn’t crying her heart out already.  
\- That would have been a happy scenario! When he left, he took random parts of me with him. No, even worse. He didn’t take them with him. He had to rip me off to extricate himself out of me. There was no other way out. There were too many shared dreams, ideas, moments, both bad and good, hopes, broken and fulfilled, disappointments, fears…secrets… between us. Band-aid! Jon snorted. It was fucking Hiroshima! And I wasn’t able to admit it. First I was too shocked, then I was too furious, then I was too hurt. At the time I met you I was too proud. I don’t even know why I was proud. Dot was the one that held me in one piece. What had left of me anyway. She glued what it was to be glued, fixed what could be fixed, but the missing parts? They were so gone. I had to learn to live without them and sometimes act as if they were still there. Maybe I was doing a great job at pretending that I was alright or maybe everyone around me wanted me to be ok so they were pretending as much as I did. Or because they had seen me in a worse state, they considered I was fine. And that’s why I think it took a stranger…   
Jon watched as Mel’s eyes widen in a mix of surprise and horror.  
\- Yeah…a stranger that had the skill to clean the infected bad-healed wounds and, what it’s even more mind-blowing, had some spare parts too. Or knew where I could get me some.  
\- Hey, I get it, OK? I’m a walking healer, no reason to make me cry with well-crafted words! Mel lashed out at him making him smile.  
\- I’m trying to thank you here and you’re not doing my job easy.  
\- Do you know what happened to my stranger? She ignored him. He’s inked above my right ankle!  
\- Oh…  
\- Strangers that have the power to influence our lives are never just strangers. _And sometimes they can get pretty bruised too…_ But you should thank your wife. Don’t look at me like that! She told me you were not very convinced of Martin’ s proposal. She had to play inception with you! It seems to me that she has never been fooled by your pretending. She was the one who truly saved you this time also.  
\- If Martin hadn’t wanted me, and if Dot had never said anything, and if Oana had never sent that video…A lot of ifs.  
\- What are the chances, she said and then almost crooned, that we end up dancing?  
\- What? Jon frowned.  
\- Nothing…Just a BSB song, she smiled.  
He wanted to ask her what their reaction to the album was and what did they have to say about the movie. They never had the chance to talk about that.  
\- Sounds like a good one, he said instead.  
\- It is, she said leaving the sensation she wanted to say more.  
\- Anyway, I’m done with this analysis of the past. I handled it bad before he left, and even worse after. Looking back brings me nothing, ‘cause nothing can be changed. The only thing I can change is how I relate to the present situation…  
\- I didn’t bring Richie here! She outburst interrupting Jon.   
\- Oh, wow! Look at that, first time! How does it feel? He joked.  
\- I can’t be the reason why he’s here! She totally ignored his reaction.   
\- And yet you are.  
\- Jon, come on…Mel pleaded.   
\- Any reason is a good reason, Jon tried to reassure her.  
She searched his eyes for any shade of faked bravery, but if there was any she could not see it. She truly hoped he was going to remain as healed as today and his wounds would not turn again into festering ones.   
\- I didn’t use you to make him come here. I swear! He said he wanted to meet you and I told him you would be here today. He never gave me the chance to say I was gonna ask you if you were ok to put you two in touch and set up a meeting whenever and wherever you felt like. He just said “I’ll be there”…so…He’s here, not back. Whatever back means…Jon sighed.  
\- He has lost some parts of himself too in that process of separation. There is no back.  
\- I know. I can only hope that he too had someone with the glue ready, or a needle, or just a cold hand willing to caress or…slap him in the darkest hours.  
\- Jesus, Mel hissed and swiped the back of her hand under her eyes. No matter what kind of ending is going to happen, you two are my favorite love story. And the only one that can make me cry!  
It took Jon a few seconds to recover and fully understand what she meant. And have some fun with her.  
\- Kid, I’ve told you before! You really should stop reading fanfic! He admonished her.  
\- I didn’t imply anything! Not my fault that English doesn’t have a word for a non-sexual love relationship! She defended to his amusement. Why do you keep bringing fan fiction into the discussion? I’ve told you I haven’t read it!  
\- Because I like how red you become when I mention it. It’s the only thing that gets you nervous. Besides singing…But that’s a bad nervous, this one is…cute, he smirked.  
\- You’re the one who should be blushing. I’ve been told they can get pretty steamy!  
\- Hey, I haven’t slept with him more than I did it with you! Just to be clear!  
\- We did pretty bad things together, Jon! We can fool ourselves that it was work, but our hands and mouths know where they’ve been and what they’ve done…  
\- Don’t make me say it again, OK? He interrupted her with a deadpan face.  
\- Wha?…Mel managed to articulate after a moment of sheer perplexity.   
\- What? He shrugged. We were young and wild and free. And mostly drunk.  
\- Wow…You should tell Bryan Adams he wrote the lyrics wrong! Drunk really adds a certain depth to the song.  
Jon laughed and rose to standing.  
\- There was only you and me, Mel crooned, and a bottle of vodka. Yeap, totally Grammy material here!  
\- This one…not so much. But our soundtrack stands a chance. A good one!  
\- Huh?  
\- You can’t be serious! Jon could not believe that she did not picture that kind of culmination for their songs. You’ve never thought about it?  
\- Uhm…  
\- What awards did you think I was talking about? Bumfuck’s Harvest Festival?   
\- I’m sorry a Grammy is not really the kind of award I had in consideration, she snapped.  
\- Oh, I see! So you hope for an Oscar. I won’t lie. It would be nice to have one, he grinned.  
\- Do you really think we can win something like that?  
\- Why not? It’s a lottery, but we have a ticket. If you don’t consider your own work to be amazing, who will?   
She was in the car with Yiannis and the kids when she first heard “A song within” on the radio. _Eres tu, mami?_ Alexis had asked her and she had to stop the car because suddenly everything seemed so blurry around her.   
\- _I don’t know how to feel,_ she had said to her husband. _How am I supposed to feel?_   
- _Overwhelmed is normal,_ he had smiled and then took her hand in his.   
It was normal when that was your dream and you had fought with all you got to make it come true. It was not exactly her case. She wasn’t some kid living in her parents’ basement hoping she will conquer the world someday. She didn’t dream of fame, or money, or recognition. She already had them and, whilst she was taken aback from time to time by the public’s response to her work, it was kind of weird that she could feel so overwhelmed by a song. _Not just a song_ …Her words, her feelings were in it. She had put more of her in it than she had put in any movie she had ever done. And people responded to that, resonated and made her song their own. _How did you feel when you realized your music touches people?_ That was a question she had asked a lot of her friends who were part of the music scene. And now, if she was able to leave the past aside once and for all, she could find out first hand.   
\- Come with me on stage, Jon smiled like he had read her mind.   
He stretched out his hand and Mel put her hand in his.  
\- OK, she whispered and rose to her feet. We’ll give it a try.  
\- Good, he nodded and notice the ever present involuntary flinch didn’t occur. For the first time since he met her, she was willing to accept him with all the sharp blades he was carrying. And that scared him a little. Now let’s get back to the studio, he said and passed between their swings. Richie owes you some apologies and we’ve stayed enough here to make him send to hell his excuses and question again the validity of those rumors.  
\- You left him alone there?  
\- Left the King of Swing and came for the Queen of Swings…Ok, that sounded way better in my mind! He apologized when he felt Mel’s angry look burning him. I’ll stick to kid!  
\- Great…she mumbled and started walking towards him.  
\- Why the hell are you dressed like this? Calling you "kid" seems inappropriate when you look like a CEO.  
\- The jeans died. And I’m not the CEO…  
Jon wanted to say he was just joking, but Mel continued.  
\- I’m the owner.  
\- Hmmm. Family business?  
\- I guess it became so after marriage.  
\- Does your husband know how much money you make? Jon laughed.  
\- He does. I don’t think he’s thrilled about it, but he does.  
\- Poor man. And you’re gonna bring him home a Grammy with your name on it…When he’s the singer of the family.  
He expected to feel her penetrating gaze melting his brains, or to hear a sarcastic response, even to get one over his head. But Mel was walking beside him in absolute silence.  
\- Oh, no, no, no! No! Jon took a deep breath before he went on. May I give you an advice? A marriage regarding advice?  
He didn’t wait for her approval.  
\- Don’t do it!  
\- What?  
\- Anything you can’t forgive yourself, don’t do it! Your husband is capable of forgiving you almost everything, but you…you give yourself one hell of a time for the stupidest things. We may have a lot in common, but this trait we don’t share. I can easily lie to myself that I’m innocent. Most of the times…Now, you winning a Grammy is not on Yiannis’ list of mortal sins. The hell if I know what is on his list, because “Hey, honey, I woke up naked in someone else’s bed” apparently is not. Dot and I can throw one at another a lot of phrases many people would consider deal-breakers, but, damn kid! You outclassed us with this one! Bed of roses…I know! Jon said when Mel opened her mouth to bite back. That is something else! And it’s not about me anyway! Give your husband some credit, will you? He’s not a moody snowflake who wants attention and recognition. He’s a grown-up man who is proud of his successful wife!   
\- I know that…But it was easier when it was each to its own.   
And it was clear it would have been easier if she hadn’t been always on a run. She liked to believe she knew when to slow down, but this year’s events had shown her she had no clue. Always caught up between her work, her husband’s work and their kids’ school and activities, she had noticed the world was about to come to a stop almost too late. “I’ll leave tomorrow” had been close to turning into “Shit! I’m stranded here, far away from my family.” Luckily, it hadn’t been the case, but that thought, that she could ignore everything, even her kids’ needs, tormented her. She made herself a promise to be more careful and always put her family first, but when the end of May had come and the world had restarted, with everyone so keen to come back to their old habits, she had let herself caught in that swirl of countries, flights, schedules and projects her life was. She had to slow down, but first she had to find a way. Telling was easy, doing was another thing.  
\- I can’t argue with that. Wow…You are the lousiest alpha on Earth! He concluded fairly amused.  
\- Alpha?! When did you decide I’m an alpha? She almost repulsively asked.   
\- That’s not a thing to decide, Mel! Jon laughed. And it’s not a bad thing, why are you so fired up?  
\- Because I’ve always hated this categorization. _And because I don’t wanna be one!_ If I have to be a Greek letter, I will not be the most accessible one in the alphabet, just to be clear! she said with a certitude that made Jon smile. One day he would tell her his conclusion about “If I was your mother”, but that day had not come yet.   
\- And what letter would you prefer?  
\- Xi.   
\- Is that even a letter? he asked cautiously.  
\- Yeap. A nice one. Interesting pronunciation and hard, but fun to write. It has a nice, curly tail. It matches my hair, she said and run a hand through her hair.  
\- Aham, and this letter of yours likes to be bossy with her nearby sister-letters?  
\- I am not bossy! She decreed.  
\- Sure! Tell that to my ego! He had to fight to keep his lips from curling into a smile.  
\- Your ego is just fine, she said and they both started to laugh.  
\- Kid, Jon changed his tone to a more serious one, proud alpha, lousy alpha, undercover alpha, I don’t care. If you ever feel the need to talk or just knacker down a bottle of wine, I’ll be here. You know that, right?   
\- I’ll keep that in mind, she said and hoped she would not be forced to come back there in less than 8 hours. Tia had called her a week ago and casually invited her to Chris’ concert in New York later that evening. _And maybe we can chat a little afterward._ Tia didn’t say more, but Mel had a feeling her friend was finally over the fact she had had the cosmic chance to touch Jon’s ass and she had seen that movie for what it really was. A painful confession.  
\- Hey, why did you ask me if I left Richie alone in the studio? Jon asked her when they were halfway to the studio.  
\- It’s stupid…I kinda thought of Ava…Our Ava…  
\- That is stupid! Jon said when he realized what Mel was saying, but he sped up anyway. He hadn’t left Richie in a bad state when he had gone in search of Mel, but the scene of Ava’s death was now unfolding in his mind and reason could not stop it. It had been Martin’s idea to use Nathan’s studio as the crime scene and his to transform Nathan’s beloved guitar into a collateral victim. But it took Mel’s twisted mind to make that scene truly disturbing and leave no subtlety for “Blood on my guitar”’s title. Ava trashing the band’s studio. Every instrument, every electronic, every record, every photo, every piece of Nathan. Ava looking at the guitar on which she had played the fateful song as if she was confronting her past, her mother, her actions, her heart’s turnover.   
\- _One needs a hell of a determination to use these as a weapon. They do a great job at hurting your fingers, but that’s pretty much it,_ he had told Mel when she had come up with the idea.  
\- _Well, you can’t say she lacks determination._  
Ava smashing the hell out of that guitar - Mel had not agreed to destroy an authentic one and they had ended up using a simple wood carcass. Ava looping the thinnest string around one of her wrists and pulling until the skin tore under the pressure. Then moving to the other one. And finally moving to her throat. Metaphorical blood becoming real. Too real…  
It was stupid and yet they were walking so fast it could be easily considered running. They were not talking anymore either.   
\- It truly is stupid! Jon concluded between fast breaths when they finally reached the studio.  
\- It is! She agreed.  
He took a deep breath to calm down, then turned the knob and opened the door. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. The last chapter. I know it's not the typical fan faction, too much chatter and no action, but if you made it to the end, I'd love to here your opinions. Bad, good, it doesn't matter. 
> 
> Stay safe everyone.

At first glance, everything seemed to be in place. No broken glasses or windows, no overturned chairs, no destroyed instruments. In fact, a guitar could be heard and Jon found himself spinning in a deja vu sensation. Except this time the guitar was electrical and he could clearly see Richie playing it.

\- Hell no! Jon murmured.

In the exact moment he had recognized what Richie was playing, Mel’s fingers curled around his right wrist and he felt her gasp in surprise.

\- That’s what was missing from the song? He was missing?!

He didn’t even know why he was so astonished. It made all the sense. What it didn’t make any sense was why he had never figured it out until that moment that she was unconsciously searching for a certain sound. Richie’s, to be more specific. Or why she hadn’t done it.

\- You could have said his name…

\- You could have sent the song to him too, she responded back.

\- No, no I couldn’t… _ Wow, that came full circle, _ he apprehended _. _

And that was his answer. More than a no-go subject, Richie was not a viable option. Even if at some point she had thought that Richie’s musical signature was missing from that song, and when she was rejecting idea after idea, sample after sample she had surely thought of it, there was no doubt, she had had to bury that feeling. Judging by her reaction, that had been an unconscious action. Saying his name would not have been a miraculous fix, mostly because it had taken Jon almost a whole year, after the song had been recorded, to ask Richie something regarding music. Even after the man had congratulated him and expressed his interest in meeting Mel, sending a casual “ _ Hey, do you think you can help me with something? _ ” had not been an easy job. He had stuttered so bad in explanations via messages, that in the end Richie had picked up the phone and called him. Actually called him! When he heard the amused tone at the other end of the line, every doubt and fear succumbed and he managed to properly ask for what he wanted. That was how the Spanish flavor had been added to a song Richie knew nothing about.

Mel let go of Jon’s wrist and made her way near Richie, who had noticed them and had stopped playing. She let him put the guitar aside then, with no warning, she punched his shoulder, hard enough to not count as a friendly gesture, but light enough to not count as an aggressive one either.

\- Hey, what was that for? He asked her rubbing at the hit spot more out of reflex.

\- That was for the fan in me! 

Richie frowned at her with a confused smirk on his face.

\- I thought the fan in you gave me a hug.

\- Oh, no, she slightly shook her head. The fan in me is still fucking mad that you left!

\- Gabriela KillerLegs my ass…Jon mumbled under his breath.

\- So the hug was from who?

\- From…from someone who understands, she said knowing it was not really an answer, but it was the only one she could give.

“Who understands what?” Richie wanted to ask, but the subtle change in her tone made him shiver inwardly and determined him to keep his mouth shut. He looked at Jon, the confused smirk persisting on his face.

\-  _ A little bit crazy this one, huh? _ Jon sensed his old friend’s thoughts.  _ And you’ve seen nothing yet _ , he was about to equally silent answer, but Richie’s expression changed from confusion to perplexity, like something started to add up in his mind and the result announced to be so unexpected it was impossible to be fully comprehended at first try. He turned to look at Mel again. 

_ Who are you? _

\- You have no fucking idea what you’ve done, she said calmly with no hint of rebuke in her tone. If it hadn’t been for that bad word, it would have sounded like a piece of knowledge given by a wise man to a young and still innocent novice. Or like a prophecy. Jon didn’t know with which one to go and didn’t know if to laugh or be concerned about a possible bad follow-up. It had taken her more than half a year to throw a “you’re an idiot” at him and less than 3 hours to slap Richie with that one.  _ So much for the apologies… _

\- I know…Richie murmured instead of a maybe deserved “ _ What the hell do you want? _ ” or “ _ What’s your problem? _ ”.

Richie didn’t need to be told. He knew. When he had finally turned to face Jon and instead of a judgmental, “I know it all” stare he had been met by those defenseless blue eyes filled with nothing but logging and pain and something that looked a lot like unconditional love, he had understood what he had done.

Mel slightly shook her head, denying his affirmation. He only thought he knew, but she didn’t want to verbally contradict him.

\- I know…he repeated and she let him believe that. It had taken her 17 years to fully understand what her departure had truly caused, to understand it hadn’t had an impact only on the targeted ones, but on many more. Maybe he would never know how many people he had hurt, directly on indirectly, and Mel could only hope it would be so, because he didn’t deserve more suffering and guilt. 

\- You’re my missing part! She said with a “let’s make peace” voice.

\- You’ve been pretty clear about that, he smiled.

\- No. You’re the missing part from “Blood on my guitar”.  _ And God, how I hoped you weren’t… _

\- Oh...he seemed a bit surprised, but quickly recovered. I’ve told you it could have been better! He half-joked.

- __ It’s not about being better or worse. It’s about being right.

_ Right! _ What a word _. _ A song that should have been his.  _ Right! _ A song that was his and Jon’s and yet he was missing from it. And she knew. How the hell did she know? How the hell did he not? _ Who was she anyway?  _

Mel felt Richie’s eyes persisting on her, searching for an answer to a question he seemed unable to correctly formulate.

\- These songs…he began. Are they really of dance moves inspiration?

Mel frowned and reciprocated his eye search. Why was he pleading for a negation? Yes, it was not the usual way to write a song like that, but it was a way.

\- I think you are belittling dancing and its power.

\- No…I mean…

\- We have a party starter called “Rock the night”. It’s very upbeat and absolutely danceable, you know?

\- Yeah, but…

\- Totally, Jon murmured unheard by Richie or Mel. 

_ \- Come on, cowboy, make me see stars! _ she had told him, with a playful smile, on that night spent in the pub.

\-  _ You’re drunk! _ He had laughed back at her.

\-  _ Not yet _ , she had said and flawlessly twirled a few times to prove him wrong.  _ Now go get the electrical bad girl and let’s rock this night! _

He had given in and went back to the studio for an electric guitar, leaving her there dancing to songs that were not meant for dancing, yet seemed unexpectedly suitable for that activity when she was moving to their beat. And when he had come back, she had been the one that made him see those invoked stars. Unintentionally, like everything else she had done to him. He had opened the door and remained there, with the guitar in his hands, looking probably totally laughable and wondering how much wine they had truly had that he had been transported in that 1001 nights realm that was happening under his eyes. Thousands of dances, thousands of girls and nothing that could even look similar to the way she was moving, so in tune with that strange music.  _ My soul got lost and found itself again in the desert Arabic music invokes.  _ Well, his soul was currently lost in those shimmies her hips were doing. Her t-shirt was caught in a knot under her breasts, leaving her toned abdomen exposed only for a virtual audience. He, especially, should have never witnessed that, because she was not exposing just some extra skin. She was exposing a part of herself that not many were allowed to know. He had been poised to make his presence known, but he had decided to watch her for research. Teaching material. Machine learning or what the hell her words had been. As soon as those annoying stars would go away and let him analyze the correlation between what he was hearing and what she was dancing, he would take advantage of that off-the-cuff show. Watching her upper body moving like the sea waves, with an untargeted come-hither smile curling her lips, he hadn’t known if to envy or pity her husband, a dilemma that David had had after she had met her, except instead of her husband, his friend didn’t know what to feel about him. Mel had stopped mid movement when she had noticed him, barely murmuring a “Shit…” before quickly unfolding her t-shirt and turning off the music.

_ \- I will pretend I didn’t see anything!  _ He had said and had moved from the door trying to act like he had caught her doing something embarrassing, not something worthy of a skilled odalisque.

_ \- Yeah, you do that… _ she had murmured trying to catch her breath.

\-  _ So, you speak Arabic too?  _

\-  _ Of course not _ , she had said and the topic had been forever forgotten. He cherished her friendship more than a few stubborn stars, no matter what the media was still sustaining.

\- Rich, Mel started and woke Jon from the reverie.

It was so weird, Jon thought, to hear Richie’s name said out loud with such ease after all that battle. 

\- You know how some people tend to over-analyze a song, searching and finding hidden meanings and genius chord changes or progressions, being so sure the artist had calculated every note, every pause, but if you ask the artist he will say “I don’t know, man, it just sounded good to me”?

\- I am sure it’s not the case with these ones. They are carefully and thoughtfully written to accompany the movie. And Ava’s song, as you call it, is even more than that, right? It has a meaning…

\- Of course. It has a meaning for me, and another one for Jon, and another one for Ava and so on and so forth. This is how songs work, I don’t have to tell you that. It’s never so important what the author intended to transmit. It’s always what it gets to the listeners that matters.

\- So you’re not pissed off that everybody categorizes that song as a romantic one, “oh, a love that travels time, how sweet”, he mimicked probably all the female audience of the movie, when it’s so clear it’s not about that?

Mel looked in shock at him. It was the first time when someone saw that song as something else than a love one.

\- And you said no one would get it, she said glancing at Jon. Did we make that bet, ‘cause I think you’ve just lost?

\- In my defense, I wasn’t expecting him to make such a deep analysis. Or even a sketchy one, to be honest.

\- There is nothing deep. Come on, that haunting piano is anything but romantic. And that “through time so I can hear”…That’s more like a curse than an act of love.

\- Oh my God! I so wanna hug you right now…Mel murmured astonished by Richie’s comments.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, but hold back his thoughts. Calling bipolar a person you just met a few hours ago was not exactly appropriate behavior. 

\- You’re…weird, he said instead.

\- Guilty, she smiled childishly and he couldn’t help smiling back. Look, she said after a pause, it seems we started on a wrong foot here. And I can’t really understand why…

\- About that…

\- Don’t! Mel interrupted him. No need for apologies.

\- I’ve never believed those rumors, just so you both know. I was amused by them, but I didn’t believe them.

\- Amused? Jon chimed in.

\- You’ll never read something like that in the newspapers about me, Richie imitated him. And bang! Karma! He giggled.

\- Can we move on from this? I don’t have all day…and no, Jon, I’m not spending the night here.

\- You know the way if you change your mind.

Mel slightly shook her head as she realized she was going to miss that studio at some point in her life. Not soon, but at some point for sure.

\- Except for the dancing part, there’s nothing unusual about the making of this soundtrack. We just talked about the movie, about our characters, their motivations, feelings. I said something, he said something, apparently I shaped chords in the air, we drank some wine, we talked more and sometimes we argued. Which led to more consumed alcohol. You want to know why I’m not keen to talk about this process? Like I said, for me it meant something, for Jon something else, and part of that we put in our characters. What we didn’t it let out was never meant for the public anyway. For me, making an instrument sound like something you hear in your head is rocket science. It simply is. For you two it’s nothing much. You see, I consider the songs are more his because he had made that transition, from idea to sound, possible. And he considers I did the hard part because I had the idea in the first place. But…I guess… you can’t have one without other to have a song. 

\- Finally! Jon exclaimed and Richie turned with an almost furious look at him.  _ Let her talk!  _ He silently screamed and Jon remained quiet.

_ - _ You wanted to know what rough encounter means. It means one morning, after we had…let’s say a disagreement, he came here and I met him with a huge hangover and a lousy one-woman show. Let me tell you something…sensitive skin, high pain tolerance, and steel strings are not a good combination. I wasn’t trying to prove anything, I just wanted to find a song I could sing for him as he had kindly asked me on numerous occasions. I don’t play the guitar. I know some songs, that’s all. And there’s an explanation why I can do that lying on my back, but…

Mel pondered if to tell more or not. It was not really the kind of story you share with someone you barely know. On the other hand, he was not exactly a stranger. His ever-present ghost had even been a funny companion on occasion. 

\- You know what? What the hell? I’m gonna tell you…you are a little involved after all.

_ \-  _ What? __ Jon frowned. __ He was now even more curious about why she had that ability.

_ \-  _ About …shit…many years ago _ , _ I was on a trip around Spain. A bad trip…

Jon chuckled when he heard her addition. _ Talking about the gift of telling two things with same words… _

_ \- … _ at some point. I had a motorcycle accident. I…slipped.

This time, Jon felt cold shivers down his spine. That was not just an accident. That was a daring test of reality that could have gone really bad.

_ \-  _ I was literally in the middle of nowhere, with a broken phone and a dislocated shoulder, but luckily enough, with a bike that still worked. If I could get her up.

_ \-  _ Shit…

_ \-  _ Yeah, well…Adrenaline helps. I waited for some time for a car, for a person, for some kind of form of life to pass by, but that place was dead. I managed to lift the bike, no idea how, and I drove in the first gear only, because my left arm gave all that had when I started, until I found a village that had inhabitants. And even a small medical clinic. I was sitting on a bad, highly sedated, realizing no one knew where I was and with no possibility for anyone to contact me. And while the feeling I was so alone in that mess was starting to creep up on me, a song you might know started to play on the radio. It was “Who says you can’t go home” and it’s still a mystery why a radio station that was targeted mostly on Spanish music chose to play that song, but it did and it made me both laugh and cry at the same time. I had no home. You know the story of my life, don’t you? She asked Richie. I don’t have to tell you why I didn’t have a home. You’ve searched the internet twice, right? 

_ \-  _ Yeah _ ,  _ he managed to confirm.

_ \-  _ The numbers are wrong on the internet, but the base idea remains. __ So…I screamed an honest “Fuck you!” that vexed the doctor. “You don’t like Bon Jovi?” Mel said with a perfect Spanish accent that butchered the band name. “It’s a good band, senorita”. Oh, how I wanted to strangle you, Jon! Mel puffed. And the doctor. And the whole band, why the hell not? If only I had had two functional arms. But…by the end of the song, I realized something. I was waiting in vain to find an already built home. I had already been in that kind of homes and there weren’t meant for me. So...there was only one thing left for me to do. Make one for myself. I sold the bike, I rent a car and I bought a house that I had seen and liked a couple of days before. It was old and it took some months to get it done, but I had nothing better to do anyway. I met my lovely neighbor, Don Pedro. Jon knows him. He plays the guitar like an authentic flamenco artist. I asked him to play Malaguena for me. Simple song, but so essentially Spanish. He said he can teach me. I said he stands no chance, but he showed me anyway and the next day he came to my door with a guitar as a welcome gift. I never tried to learn it, I was so sure I can’t do it, but the nights can be painfully long when you can’t sleep so it was a way to pass the time. For some kind of reason, my shoulder didn’t hurt so much if I was lying on my back. So…that’s why I can play it like that. 

Although he already knew parts of the story, Jon still found those missing details to be heartbreaking. No home, no family, just friends, good ones, but which didn’t know how to reach her anymore.  _ How the hell had she managed to get out alive and sane? _ He wouldn’t have been able to do it.

_ \-  _ You are not wrong when you say I can learn to play the guitar part for Ava’s song. I probably already know a big part of it. But I can’t do it on stage. I thought about it. Will give it a try with singing, but let the guitar aside. Fuck it, will do a Shallow moment, you can play the piano, be Lady Gaga, I don’t care. 

Richie chuckled and was about to make fun of Jon, but the change in the cadence of her talking lit a warning bulb in his brain. Something was off. 

\- It worked like a charm when we wrote it, it will work on stage too, but I can’t pluck a fucking open string if my hands start shaking. And I can feel them shaking right now and I’m only talking about that…

_ \-  _ Hey, slow down…he said with a start of a half-smile that was both amused and perplexed. 

With no second thoughts, he put his hands on her shoulders and when she turned her face from Jon to him, he held her gaze, not giving her the chance to look away and slip into a small panic attack. Her pulse was already skyrocketing and he was on autopilot. One he didn’t know he still had. 

\- Take it easy, he said with a soothing tone and had to force himself to not slip a “kid” at the end. Out of habit. 

\- I think I’ve never been so nervous in my life, she said quickly, letting the sensation she found that to be incredibly surprising. She took a deep breath and continued. And it’s only the planning phase, she faintly smiled.

_ Who the hell are you?  _ For Richie, that statement sounded like a cover-up, one that he had heard on many occasions and used to find it peculiarly lovable. What did he know about her? He knew there had been a few attempts to dissect her life in the public eye and that she had successfully kept her private life on a low profile. She was not a scandal magazines’ darling. Sure, there were some crazy rumors out there, but he could not name a single famous person who had not read something outrageous and completely untrue about itself. 

\-  _ Do you think you can say something about her that it’s not obvious and written on fucking Wikipedia?  _ Richie started an intense inner dialogue.

_ \- She’s…. _

_ \- Really? Foxy? You flew from the other side of the country to come up with only that word?! What’s the matter with you? _

Apparently, his self interlocutor was quite harsh and didn’t appreciate superficiality.

_ \- She’s…shy. _

_ \- That’s just your “I like to be everyone’s safety net” syndrome. Try harder! _

_ \- She’s mildly bipolar!  _

_ \- That you can say again! _

_ \- And she has the ability to calm down that other oscillating personality in the room, who can’t seem to shut up right now.  _

In his extensive research, he had seen an interview, most likely taken when they were still on set, by a bigheaded guy who seemed to had made a mission out of driving them up the wall. He clearly considered himself witty when he was in fact simply rude. At some point, Jon’s well trained professional attitude had started to give signs of surrender and he had begun to obsessively pick at his thumb, a thing he always did when he was nervous or feeling out of his place. Or when he didn’t know what else to do with his hands to stop them from planting themselves in some bastard’s eyes. Although she was clearly in the same situation, she had managed to maintain way better her composure and even subtly come to Jon’s help. Without even looking at him, she simply put his hand over his, stopping him and indirectly assuring him he was not the only one who wanted to blow off that guy’s head. The moment was not even completely caught on camera, the start of the movement could be seen, but the end not. It could be guessed if you knew what to look for. And Richie knew. The short moment when Jon’s eyes widen in surprise, the elusive smile on her face, and, in the end, the fact he had stopped doing that and he hadn’t found anything else to keep his hands busy.

_ \- At the same time, she has the power to make him as nervous as a schoolboy facing his crush. _

_ \- Let’s be honest. That was not entirely her credit. _

Graham’s show. Get your guests drunk and let them have fun. Adult fun. Maybe the movie was not R-rated, but due to Elizabeth Banks and her bridal social game, that show should have been.  _ Do you spit or swallow? _ His ears had caught fire and he was only looking at a Youtube video, for God’s sake. He didn’t know how he would have reacted if he had been in their place. The question was for Mel, but Jon’s involuntary reaction had made the audience’s delight. The poor man had just wanted to take a sip of his wine when that question had struck like a lightning. Everyone was expecting something cheeky, but that was beyond anyone’s imagination. So the inevitable had produced. The wine never made it to Jon’s mouth, instead, it had been splattered all over, in everybody’s laughter. Mel had let him cough and dry himself a little, then, with a classy gesture, she took her glass, gave him a “The question was for me, Jon” that threw everyone in another reprise of laughter and made Jon's face turn redder than the spilled wine, while she imperturbably drink from her glass. Yeah, European TV shows were clearly in another league. 

\-  _ Does this help you in any way? _

_ \- It tells me she’s cold-blooded. And today she doesn’t seem so… _

_ \-  _ Rich! He heard Jon in his proximity calling him and realized he had zoned out.

\- Hmmm? He murmured, then noticed the man had his right fist up in the air.

\- Can you show her how it’s done? 

\- How it’s done what? Oh…He fully came to his senses. He had no idea what they had talked about, but he had understood what Jon was asking him. Sure, he said and took his hands off her shoulders. You stick your arm like this…

Mel watched him through narrowed eyes, with sarcasm flowing out from every pore.

-... and then you curl your fingers one by one into your palm. See? It’s easy! Try! Oh, wow! 15 new ways of killing a man with only one look! Richie laughed. Did you learn that from Jon? 20! I guess not!…

\- Kid, I swear to God, if you let me one more time hanging like this…

\- Then stop doing it! She cut him off then, with a twinkle in her eyes, she put one hand over Richie’s fist and one over Jon’s and brought them together. There! You’re not hanging anymore!

Both men looked at their joined fists at the same time, and, as on cue, they switched to looking into each other’s eyes, a “what the heck just happened?” plastered on their faces.

\- Is she always so willful? Richie asked amused.

\- And you’ve seen nothing, Jon puffed and shook his head.

\- Jeez, you simply can’t help from making me look like the bad one.

\- When have I done that? Jon laughed and finally broke that tricked fist bump.

\- It’s nothing personal. It came along with the eye-candy looks, Richie explained with a playful attitude.

In contrast with that, Mel watched him slightly, and maybe involuntary, brushing over his right hand’s knuckles with his fingertips. To chase away the traces of that contact or to feel them for a little bit longer, she couldn’t tell. And at that moment she saw it. The little star. She had the exact impulse Jon had had when he had seen it on her hand. She wanted to touch it, to follow its shape with her fingers. To feel on her fingertips what meaning those tiny lines could take on someone else’s skin. 

\- Hey! Jon played the tough guy.

_ Home. It means home… _ Mel recalled what she had told Jon months ago. _ Had Richie found out what he was looking for?  _ She had her doubts that anything from what she had said had given him the answers he was looking for. Regardless of what the question truly was. 

\- Does any of you know what’s the first thing a baby hears? Mel asked them, completely ignoring what was currently discussed.

\- Huh?! was all Jon could respond.

\- Man, you have four! If you don’t get this right, I stand no chance.

\- It has nothing to do with the number of kids, Mel assured him.

\- Noise. A lot of strange and scary noise. Moving from blessed silence to …chaos.

\- You know the womb it’s not really soundproof, right? Mel smiled.

\- Yeah, but…

\- Oh…Jon whispered realizing where she was heading with that question. Mother’s voice. Maybe even father’s.

\- Exactly. And do you know what happens if those soothing sounds are brutally taken away?

\- Uhm…Richie was not sure if he understood what she was asking.  _ And what the hell was that topic anyway? _ One minute they were caught in a funny passive aggressive dispute and the next they switched to babies. It made no sense. Jon, on the other hand, Richie observed, seemed to play along pretty well with her.

\- ‘Cause I know, she said and Richie noticed Jon swallowed as if there was a lump in his throat. 

He already knew they were weirdly close, but exactly how close were they? She was babbling about babies and sounds and he was livid. A small amount of sorrow, any non-sociopath who knew something about her could feel. She didn’t know her parents, after all. But he had a feeling Jon’s reaction was more than a mildly exaggerated standard response.

\- Look, I don’t want to be melodramatic here and I know I don’t make much sense, but…

Mel knew she sounded just like a crazy person at that moment, especially to Richie who, just like the majority of people, had no idea she had found her parents. 

\- Don Pedro once said probably the truest thing somebody ever said about me. He told my not-husband-at-that-time that music brings me home.

\- Wha…Richie started but the rest of the words remained trapped somewhere behind his vocal cords.

\- Kid…Jon sighed. 

\- It’s not Ava’s story, Jon, Mel smiled. This one is all mine. And it’s a happy one in the end. I can’t really tell you all the details right now, but…

No, she would not tell them how she had found her father. How a casual meeting changed to something more when the man on whose boat she had stepped on just because she liked the way he was singing said he would play for her a song he hadn’t done in 30 years, since his daughter had died. A detail that sparked something in her and reactivated that creepy DNA checking habit. Only that time the result had not been “unrelated”. And for sure she would not tell them now how Yiannis had sung that song for her on numerous occasions before that day because she liked the way the words sounded. Emptied of their meaning, they were comforting and soothing in a way no others were. They made her feel loved and safe and she put all that on Yiannis’ ability to make her feel that way, with or without music. She shouldn’t have started with that question or better, she should have not started at all, but that little star had proved to be one hell of a trigger.

-... the main idea is this. In one way or another, music led me to where I am now. I know a lot of people can say that, I’m not really that special. We all have to hang on to something and a lot of people cling to music. I count only on the eclectic selection of songs for a chance to uniqueness, she smiled again. Anyway, music always brought me closer to what I was looking for. Even what seemed like dead ends were forward steps. I couldn’t tell at that time that they were so, but now I know better. With all its detours, music always led me home. 

Like he had done multiple times in the past hours, Richie found himself starring at her, not exactly knowing what to believe. Only this time that obsessive question failed to form in his mind. It didn’t matter who she was. He didn’t care who she was. He caught her in a hug so tight it made her gasp for air. Fuck it! No hug was strong enough to help him say what he wanted. And all words would fail him for sure, so he had stopped on the only two he was able to formulate.

\- Thank you…he whispered. 

Mel didn’t respond back, but closed her arms around his back and he let out a breath he didn’t know it had been caught in his chest. “When you feel alone, I'll sing you home”. He had written that for his daughter. For his Ava. God, that movie had nothing to do with reality, but its music…Its music could lead people. It had led him there and it was nothing fortuitous. Because she understood. Dancing, booze, rough encounters…it didn’t matter. The girl who was currently accepting his smothering embrace, when she could have not, understood and that meant he had not been dragged there by a chimera. Sure, things were not all rainbows and unicorns, as a matter of fact, they were probably fucked up pretty well, but they weren’t irreparably fucked up. They couldn’t go back to what they once were, that was clear, but for the first time in a while, he felt that going forward didn’t have to mean going separate ways. Separate ways sucked! 

Next to them, Jon had gone in less than five seconds through a lot of disjunct states. First it was shock. Mel’s face when Richie almost suffocated her transformed the shock in amusement. Then it was curiosity. Had Richie understood something, anything from what Mel had said? How could he? He didn’t know how a song had brought her to America, how it had brought and taken her a family, he didn’t know a song gave her a tattoo and another one had given her a name for her daughter. He only knew how their song moved her ass from a hospital bed to a brand new one in a foreign country, in an empty house. That wasn’t much compared to what others had brought her. Her parents, for example. She wouldn’t have started with that babies' reference for nothing. Somehow, a song had led her to her parents, but Richie stood no chance to figure that out. And then it hit him. Richie didn’t need to know all that to react like that. What it made him pounce on her was the fact she was able to let herself led by music. Just like he was.  _ Two more hours and he would discover that’s not the only thing they have in common _ , Jon acknowledged. That hit has been followed by another.  _ She’s not the one that led him here. I’m the one… _ Perplexity and excitement combined.  _ You! I expected to find you!  _ That was what Mel had screamed at him before she had flown him to Spain. And that was what those songs had gotten in the end. Parts of himself that had been kept in dark for far too long for different and at that time objective reasons. And parts of him that only at that specific moment had been accidentally brought back to him. By the time Richie started to loosen his grip, he moved to feel the luckiest bastard on planet Earth just on the thought he might have been given a second chance.

\- Jon, I need to let you know something, Richie said when he finally let go of Mel. I don’t know when or how exactly, but I’m gonna do that solo justice. You’re not singing it without me! He said with confidence.

\- Uhm…is that your way of saying you want to be my guitarist, mister Sambora? Jon asked with a smirk that was half cocky and half stoked.

\- Don’t push it, Jonny! Richie warned him, but his tone was far from being menacing.

\- Wow…Mel whispered. And just like that…7 years gone…She mumbled to herself but apparently not quietly enough.

\- What?! Richie exclaimed and turned to her.

\- Ehm…basic math, nothing more, she defended.

\- Shit…Richie murmured. You are right…it can be seen as basic math. It’s not, but…

\- I kinda feel bad now I've never listened to that song, she confessed. I only know the title. But I had “Broken wing” on repeat for months…

\- Again…Gabriela who? Jon chimed in.

\- 7 was not really the number for me. I’ve wasted plenty more, Mel ignored him.

Richie opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t know exactly what. The feeling she understood more than he had initially thought had started to take shape in his mind. 

\- Well, guys, I really have to go now! Rich…uhm…

\- It’s been a pleasure? He offered.

\- Sure, she smiled. Unconventional, but pleasure. Jon, I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss this crazy idea of yours. Preferably, no more surprises, ok? 

\- Aye, aye, Captain Xi! Jon grinned. 

\- See you, she said and headed to the door. She opened it then turned a little. Jon, I almost forgot. I think there’s a hit hidden in your drawer. You might want to do something about that. No one hides hits, you know? She smiled and closed the door.

Jon started to laugh and Richie cocked an eyebrow. 

\- Long story, he said and wondered if Mel would be so in favor of that unnamed song if she knew the lyrics he had for it were inspired by her. _ She would totally smash a guitar in my head,  _ he thought. __ But, he realized, that was a small price to be paid. That was the first song he and Richie had worked on together, well, almost together, and would have been a waste to just let it rot on a basically unheard CD. It was a good song, after all.

\- Are you going to tell me? I don’t have a place to be right now.

\- Yeah. Wanna hit the pub?

\- Sure. But I don’t drink.

\- Who said something about drinking? Jon wiggled his eyebrows at him then burst into laughter when he saw his friend’s stunned look.

\- Dude, the girl is right. You should see a doctor! Richie said and headed to the door. 

Jon followed him still giggling like a kid. 

\- What, you don’t love my newly found sense of humor? Jon batted his eyelashes at him, a little in vain as it was almost dark outside.

\- I don’t have to love every bit of you to love you, smart-ass!

Jon stopped in his tracks, dizzy with the effect of those words on him. After all that time, they still had the same power.

\- I love you too, he whispered in the falling night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a good dirty laugh, this is Elizabeth's party game that inspired the scene with the spilled wine.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwWvCngLNNE


End file.
